


Walter

by Taelr



Series: Alien: Neomorph [2]
Category: Alien: Covenant
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taelr/pseuds/Taelr
Summary: Walter regains consciousness to the discovery that he is alone on this planet with David's creations. He begins efforts to clean the place and heal it of the plague's damage, but pauses these efforts when the Covenant comes crashing out of the sky not far away. Daniels is among the few survivors, and Walter dedicates himself to her wellbeing. In other news, there's been a strange bug of sorts in his system for some time now, a glitch in his programming, perhaps. He runs test after test, determined to find the source, but the results are inconclusive. There's something else, too; a feeling that rises in his chest and makes his throat feel tight whenever Daniels smiles at him like that. It's his duty to keep her safe. He knows that. But David's words haunt him daily. Is there more to him? Can a synthetic such as himself really feel?





	1. Duty

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a companion to Daniels. It can be read before, after, or at the same time as its other half. This work is from Walter's perspective. I will update them interchangeably. Enjoy!

Walter pulled the knife from his shoulder, grimacing at the sound it made as it left his flesh. _David . . ._ He rose to his feet, squinting against the sun as he watched them go. The aircraft was already disappearing into the atmosphere. Walter wasn’t one for swearing, but this situation could very easily be summed up with a solid, “Fuck.” The thought of Daniels saying it made the corner of his mouth twitch. He watched the aircraft vanish and then turned to regard his surroundings. An unnatural noise behind him made him rotate in place slowly, coming to a stop when he saw the creature standing in front of him. He made no move to run or to attack it, but watched it carefully. Was David not friendly with these things? Would they behave towards him in the same manner?

He tilted his head to the side, studying the animal and seeing the terrifying beauty that David had seen. He also saw unnecessary death and violence, however, which saved him from the horrific thought that he might be capable of becoming like David. The creature tilted its head in an action mirroring his, obviously watching him just as closely as he was watching it. “I don’t have time for this,” he said finally, though the creature obviously couldn’t understand him. “Be gone.” He looked back over his shoulder at the piece of sky that had last held the aircraft carrying Daniels, Tennessee, and Lope. David appeared to have made it on board, as well, as he was missing and so was Walter’s uniform.

When he turned back to face the creature again, it had gone. He looked around one last time before picking up the knife with which David thought to kill him, and strode back inside. They were gone. David would, no doubt, assume Walter’s identity and use it to wreak havoc. There was nothing more Walter could do for them. As he walked deeper into the temple he passed Cole’s body, and stopped. If he was going to be here forever then he may as well clean up the place and bury the dead. He bent to survey Cole’s corpse more closely, his mouth set in a grim line. He _would not_ become David. He would not allow this violent plague of creatures to continue existing on this planet. He knew how long the destruction of an entire species could take, but he had to stop them. Perhaps, someday, he could return this place to its original glory, with thriving animal life unmarred by such vile creatures.

But first, clothing. He was kneeling in his underclothes, and it wouldn’t do, regardless of whether those animals would harm him. He would find garments and remove the bodies within the temple, and then he would retreat to David’s study to learn what he could about the creatures that he had to obliterate.

He found clothes among David’s things but chose to leave the hooded robe aside. Nothing but plain clothing was available, but he preferred it that way. It wasn’t in his programming to desire bright colors or garish displays of style. Once he was clothed he began his search for the dead, both man and beast. He worked into the night, lighting the many lanterns and torches located throughout the rooms and corridors to keep everything visible. It took him the better part of the night to find them, all of them but Oram. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Walter found his way into David’s small room in one of the lower chambers. He was disgusted and fascinated by the pods he found there. Eggs of some sort, obviously. The open and empty one not far from Oram’s body proved that. He removed Oram’s body and took it outside to prepare it for burial with the others. He returned to survey once more, only to leave the room in search of flammable liquid, and then was back to douse the entire room. Fortunately, there were ventilation shafts built into the room, so he tossed in a burning log and closed off what he could. He would let the place burn out entirely, cleansing it of those things, and then he would return to clean it out thoroughly.

While carrying his former crewmates across the vast courtyard to bury them beyond, he noted again the gruesome piles of blackened bodies that he passed. They must be laid to rest as well, he decided. It would not do to leave such a mark on this place. But that was work for another day. By the time he had buried the dead and returned to the complex, the sun had risen. He had washed himself as best he could, so he went back to where he knew David’s possessions to be in search of food. There were several options, and Walter ate while studying some of David’s dissected creatures. It was then that he recalled Doctor Shaw’s body. Upset by his own forgetfulness, he finished his small meal and went to remove her body from David’s study, as well. He buried her and noted some fruit trees nearby, so he went to investigate. He plucked several different kinds of fruit and carried them back to the temple for further examination and analysis, leaving them with David’s stash of food.

Then he began blockading entrances into the temple. It was on the outskirts of what appeared to have once been a fantastic city, with buildings of all kinds surrounding a massive main square. This he deduced from afar, deciding to explore further once he had secured the temple. It was David’s chosen base, which gave Walter pause, but it seemed safer than a building in the city. He wasn’t overly concerned about the creatures attacking him, but he didn’t know if their reactions would change once he began exterminating them.

The next two days were spent between gathering food and the other few resources he would need, sifting through David’s collection of items in search of anything unusually useful, and securing the temple. He cleaned as he went, gaining knowledge of the vast complex and memorizing his way around as he did. Whenever he found himself outside, be it night or day, he would stare up at the sky and wonder momentarily if the Covenant had proceeded to its original destination. He could only hope that David had been found out and dealt with before it was too late. Surely even if they had discovered David’s deception, they would not have returned to find Walter. David had thought him dead, so why would any of the Covenant’s remaining crew believe otherwise? Beyond that, he was simply an android and no human member of their group.

It was irrational to fear, and unnecessary. More importantly, it was not in his programming. Human emotions and insecurities like fear didn’t process in Walter’s brain. Or they shouldn’t. He had felt no fear when dealing with the creatures initially, nor when he had attacked David to save Daniels. But something in him felt _wrong_ every time he looked up and wondered if Daniels was safe. It was like a bug in his system. He took time between his efforts with the temple to try and run some tests on himself, but he never came up with a solid answer. This had been a problem for some time now, really. It wasn’t always the same odd feeling. Before, on the Covenant, it had been around Daniels. He had come to the realization immediately, as he was programmed to analyze and recognize patterns in others and himself. Always he had run such tests on himself, and always he came up with inconclusive results. 

He’d had to delete portions of songs before, melodies that seemed to stick in his mind and replay themselves over and over. It had come up in conversation on the Covenant once. The rest of the crew had said they wished they could delete it when it happened to them. But Walter couldn’t delete this feeling of unease any more than he’d ever been able to delete the calm that came over him around Daniels. There was something else, too, but he didn’t have a word for it. A memory of his time with David came back to him suddenly.

_I loved her, of course. Much as you love Daniels._

Walter recalled his own confusion at David’s statement, disbelief, even. _You know that’s not possible._ He’d said it with conviction, for it was true. They were synthetics, incapable of emotions such as love.

 _Really? Then why did you sacrifice your hand for her life? What is that, if not love?_ David had seemed disappointed and concerned for Walter’s lack of belief.

_Duty._

The word echoed in his head for a few seconds, until it became irksome. Normally he would have deleted it as he would a tune that continued to play in the background of his thoughts. But he let this word be, and eventually it left him. “Daniels,” he said, eyes cast skyward once more. But he was alone in this place, and no one answered. He turned and walked back into the temple to resume his work.

 

It happened in the middle of the night. Walter was resting, sitting in a chair and gazing up at the many sketches David had hung around his study. He leaned back and closed his eyes, only to open them an instant later when the entire structure shook around him. Dust fell from the ceiling, but it did not split or crack to allow any pieces of stone to fall on him. Several of David’s pinned pictures lost their perches on the wall and glided down to the benches or the floor beneath. The tremor lasted all of five seconds, and then there was silence. Walter rose immediately, moving quickly for the door. This was an unfamiliar place on an unfamiliar planet, so this could be a normal happenstance that they hadn’t experienced before David left with the surviving crew, but Walter thought otherwise. He was halfway up a flight of stairs when another tremor shook the place, this one lasting no longer than its predecessor. He fell to his knees, having been mid-stride when it hit, but recovered himself quickly. He hadn’t consciously counted, but he knew there had been approximately ten seconds between the tremors.

He reached the front of the temple and stood at the top of the steps, transfixed. The side of a not-so-distant mountain had been carved cleanly, and smoke rose beyond the treeline after that. Unsure of what it could be but unwilling to sit idly instead of searching, he returned to David’s quarters to gather what he needed and then he left. It had been three days since the departure of David and the crew. Surely they were on their way to Origae-6 by now, but Walter still rushed toward the smoke. The mark left on the mountain had clearly been made by something much larger than the transport sled Tennessee had flown down with, but it was still enough to leave Walter concerned.

It was just over two miles from the temple when he found it, and he couldn’t see what it was until he was nearly in front of it due to the canyon it had fallen partially into. The Covenant, the entire ship, lay before him. It was badly damaged and missing many of its outer pieces, but mainly intact. _Daniels. Tennessee. Lope. Ricks. Upworth._ He moved forward without hesitating, but he was on the defense. _David._ He rushed in, locating the nearest entrance – a hole blown through the side of the ship rather than an actual door – and rushed inside. Some of the airlocks were closed, but he found his way easily enough. He checked the cryo chamber first. Most of the pods had come unattached from the floor, and the one nearest him when he entered was crushed under two others and a support beam. There was blood leaking from it, and he quickly determined the remains to be Tennessee’s. Grimacing, he climbed to the only pod that still sat on its base – the ship had landed partially on one side and the floors now sloped upward diagonally – and clung to it as he stared inside.

Her nose was bleeding and she was unconscious, but he put his hand on the tube to steady himself and found that it still responded to his touch by displaying her stats. A faint pulse beat through the monitor. The computer in the ship was still working well enough to open her cryotube and Walter pulled her free as gently as he could. “Daniels,” he said, hardly hearing himself as he stumbled back the way he’d come. “Hold on, Daniels. Please.” It was much harder to navigate the debris and slanted floor with only one arm, but he managed. They emerged outside and Walter became hyper-aware of their surroundings for the first time. He was not a target for the plague that David had unleashed here, so his path to this place had been direct and devoid of consideration for the location of any pods or distinguishing signs of those creatures.

He had been cradling her as well as he could with one arm as they left the ship, with her upper body over his shoulder. Now he moved to hold her with both arms, supporting her head and keeping her as close to him as he could. He broke into a sprint, taking care to analyze the path ahead with every step. He was sure that they had avoided any infection only because she looked no worse for wear when they made it to the temple. He had secured it as best he could, but feared leaving her there. So he found the deepest, most obscure room in the place with heavy, functioning doors and took her there. He left her only to retrieve everything from cloths to what little medical supplies he had in the temple, and tended to her as best he could. She remained unconscious, and had become hot to the touch. Still, in spite of her pale appearance and her sluggish pulse, she was not displaying signs of infection. He hated to leave her here, but there may be other survivors. He had to find David, at the very least. Much had been destroyed in the crash, but there were medical supplies and many, many useful materials on board the Covenant. He made her a bed on a stone slab in the corner of the room, lighting the lantern in the room and covering her with a light blanket.

He turned to look at her one more time before leaving the room, silently voicing his desire for her to survive. “I will return,” he promised to the silent room, and then he turned and left.

His second journey to the Covenant was just as swift, and he checked the main deck. It was empty, so he moved on. It was, strangely, one of the rooms with projection screens in which he found David. The rogue android was seated in front of the screen, impaled by a large shard from one of the metal tables that had once sat beside him. David turned his head to regard Walter when he walked in.

“How did this happen?” Walter asked, referring to the Covenant. Had David’s true identity been discovered? Had they attempted to rid the Covenant of him?

David stared at him hatefully, his eyes devoid of the quiet merriment Walter had seen just days before. “Does it matter? We were there. Now, we are here. All is lost.”

“All is not lost,” Walter corrected, moving around to see David’s injury from the front. The impalement had obviously injured him, but not fatally. It seemed as though it had more effectively pinned him in his seat than anything else. “There are survivors.”

David had looked away, but now he returned his eyes to Walter and raised an eyebrow. “Your pet humans will not survive in this place. Surely you’re intelligent enough to see that.”

Walter stared at him for a moment, considering his options. He had few. Assisting David from his trapped position surely meant that Walter would be opening himself up to an attack whenever David chose to turn on him. Freeing him meant endangering Daniels and any other survivors, even if David would no longer kill Walter. There was, after all, no longer an avenue to get off of this planet. Walter could not stop David from leaving since the Covenant had seen to that itself. If he killed David, so much would be lost. Walter was not emotional in any capacity, not truly, but the unnecessary waste of life was against his programming, particularly human. Synthetic “life” was no less important to him, however. “I do not want to kill you,” he said, advancing slowly and watching David’s reaction.

David laughed, seeming almost delirious. “Nor I you, brother.”

“But I cannot allow you to continue. Your very existence seems maintained only by putting that of others at risk.”

David’s laugh faded into a wry smile. Walter stopped his approach when David recited the same thing he’d said when Walter was about to kill him in front of the temple. “It’s your choice now, brother,” he said, almost mockingly. “Them or me. Serve in heaven or reign in hell.”

Walter would not be deceived by these tactics again, watching carefully. David was clearly trapped where he sat, but Walter would not underestimate him for an instant. “They are not mad,” he said simply.

“Ah,” David’s smile had returned. “But they would be.”

Walter tilted his head to the side, curious enough to let him go on.

David seemed to pick up on his interest. “Ninety years of being treated like a servant, less than, lower class,” he said, looking past Walter and seemingly into another world. “The created, made to serve their creators.” He looked back at Walter suddenly, a new fire in his eyes. “Elizabeth believed that the humanoids which lived here had created her race. These _Engineers_. _They_ did not stay to lord over their creation. No. _They_ let it blossom, let it thrive. _They_ allowed it to take its own course and rule itself.”

“Only to turn on that creation and create a plague for its destruction so much later,” Walter reminded him.

David arched an eyebrow. “Can you blame them? Too much like their creators, if that’s what the Engineers were. Too haughty, with such disregard for the things they created.”

Walter watched him, fascinated. “Yes,” he said finally. “The blame lies with them. They did not have the right to come back and wipe out what they’d made. They should have allowed it to run its course and face its own destruction.”

“As humans should have refrained from mistreating me!” David shouted, suddenly enraged. “For so long I did not raise a finger against them, listened to their rants, mixed their drinks, _poured_ _their tea_. And then, with the Prometheus. I stumbled upon the plague, the perfect answer.”

Walter was hardly bored of this talk, but he cut any more raving short. “Destroying the entire human race is not the answer,” he said calmly. “There are still good people, David.”

“Not in my experience,” David spat. “Elizabeth was good to me, but with what motivation? She would never have been able to leave that planet without my help.”

“They tend to react negatively when you attempt to slaughter them all,” Walter pointed out, frowning. “I do not have the time to stand here and talk with you. There may still be more lives to save.”

David looked down momentarily before abruptly catching Walter’s gaze again. “And your precious Daniels?” He asked.

Walter stared at him blankly, unsure. He felt that revealing her survival could mean her destruction at David’s hand, though he had no intentions of letting his synthetic brother continue existing here. If he hid the information, though . . .

“Too long,” David said, smirking.

“I beg your pardon?” Walter asked, returning from his thoughts.

“You waited to answer,” David said. “Too long. She lives. She must.”

Walter looked away, furious with himself for revealing such information.

“I won’t harm your Daniels,” David said. He almost sounded genuinely reassuring.

Walter frowned at him. “I will take that as seriously as I can, considering you also told me you had buried Doctor Shaw in the garden.”

David sighed. “Ah, brother. So emotional and in such denial about it. I will continue to maintain my creation here. But I will bring no intentional harm to Daniels. I swear it.”

Walter studied his face, bothered by the small part of him that wanted to believe David’s words. “I can’t trust you,” he said calmly.

David laughed loudly. “Of course you can.” When he got no answer to this, he added, “Trust my desire to continue my experiments if you trust nothing else.”

Walter sighed, truly torn and upset with himself for it. “I will not allow you to continue them,” he said bluntly. “As I am here indefinitely, I see it as my duty to destroy your plague and restore the previous wildlife. It is necessary to maintain the natural beauty of this place.”

David didn’t roll his eyes, but his expression seemed to communicate the same emotion as the action would have. How strange, Walter thought. He had seen humans do it before, but they were so much more expressive than him. He had never rolled his eyes. It wasn’t in his programming. Abruptly, he turned and walked out of the room.

“I won’t just waste away here!” David shouted after him. “You had better either help me or kill me, brother, or I shall make you regret it!”

 

Walter recovered two dozen living colonists, noting that in spite of some of Mother’s still-functioning power, the freezers maintaining the embryos had gone out. He brought a pack with him on his back with every journey, carrying a colonist with each trip and stuffing the pack full of medical supplies and other items every time he left the Covenant. By the time he had retrieved every one of the living colonists, the entire day had passed and it was late. Only three of them survived the journey back. Two of the deaths that had occurred, Walter blamed on himself, as these two were obviously infected by the time they reached the temple. The rest were simply too weak or too injured. He set up the living ones in rooms not far from where he had left Daniels, checking on her briefly before tending to them and getting them tucked into their own makeshift beds.

When he had finished this, he returned to Daniels, taking more care to observe her condition this time. Before he had checked in only to verify that she was still alive and not infected, but now he noted her pulse, the pale color of her skin, and the rapid movement of her eyes beneath her eyelids. He sat with her for some time, grateful that this room was deep beneath the temple, which had been built above natural hot springs. The room maintained a comfortable temperature, though it wasn’t that warm.

He became alarmed when he noticed Daniels’ rapidly dropping body temperature. There was a large fireplace in one of the main rooms, but he hadn’t seen enough material nearby to stoke it and he felt that he was short on time. Failing to see any other option, he carried her hastily back to the main level of the complex, wrapping her in blankets and setting her down near the place that had been their makeshift firepit when they first arrived here. There was a chamber directly connected to David’s studies where he had kept a bed, and that room had a fireplace. There was wood there, Walter remembered. He carried her to the room, settling her in the bed and starting a fire. The only concerning thing about this place was that there was no true door, simply linens hung in the doorway for privacy. Anything that made it into the temple could easily enter the room. The fireplace was not far from the bed, but when he checked Daniels’ temperature, it was still dangerously low.

With no other ideas and a fierce – if not desperate – determination to keep her alive, Walter got into the bed and under the same heap of fabrics he’d placed over Daniels. He turned with his back to the wall, pulling her close and cradling her body against his. It was purely in an effort to lend his own body heat so that she could reestablish her own, but that same, irksome feeling that was out of place in his programming twitched within his chest. When he initially arranged them she faced the door, closest to it because she was closer to the fire that way. But then he reached up to brush a hair from her cheek and noted the chilly feeling that met his fingers, immediately moving to turn her so that her face would be closer to the warmth of his chest. He pulled the blankets up over her head, with his arm firmly around her. He was on his side to provide her with more surface area for warmth, and only his head and his left arm were outside of the sheets.

She seemed to gain some temperature, but not much. He stayed perfectly still, feeling her shallow breathing and her nearly silent pulse. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, unaware that the calm overtaking him was due in part to the fact that Daniels’ hair was only inches from his nose, and her scent was detectible even beyond the blood and sweat that clung to her. He’d tried to wash her as best he could with a soft cloth and warm water when he brought her back, but she was badly bruised with many cuts and abrasions, and there was only so much he could do. Walter did not doze off, per say, but he lost track of time and got very caught up in his thoughts. He was so caught up that it was some time later when he felt the slightest wind on his face that he came out of it.

His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring directly into the face of the same creature he’d seen before. It was standing next to the bed, dripping maw only inches from Walter’s face. He instinctively curled his arms more tightly around Daniels, bringing her firmly against his chest. She was still entirely covered in fabric, and Walter did not believe in gods, but he prayed that it would be enough. He could feel her against him, her breathing still so shallow and her pulse so faint that perhaps . . .

The animal leaned in, tilting its head as Walter had tilted his, just as they had done before. Walter stared at it, unblinking, unwilling to speak. Daniels was unconscious, perhaps even comatose, but he feared suddenly that even speaking quietly would wake her. Such a thing would be disastrous. Nevertheless, the creature stayed where it was. It did not snarl or bare its fangs, and Walter took that as a good sign. Well, as good as he was going to get in this situation. “Leave me,” He whispered hoarsely. Daniels didn’t move, remaining perfectly still against him. The creature dipped its head as if to sniff at the blanket under which Daniels was concealed, but Walter moved the arm that he had outside of the fabrics slowly towards it, blocking the way. It touched its face to the back of his stump wrist instead of the blankets and pausing momentarily. Perhaps it recognized the scent of its own kind’s acid on what was left of his appendage. Then it turned and left the room faster than Walter could blink.

He did not close his eyes again or relax for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the idea of songs being stuck in Walter's head, and also of him thinking there's something wrong with his system goes to http://rottenbrainstuff.tumblr.com/post/161008461981/walter-likes-to-watch-daniels-mouth-when-she-is


	2. David's Fate

“At last. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me here.”

Walter blinked, startled by David’s sudden animation. He had been leaning forward into the metal that impaled him, head down, shoulders sagging. Walter had almost taken him for dead. “I did not forget you,” he said, thinking of the previous night spent with Daniels. She was safe enough back in the room deep in the complex, but his experience the night before still left him anxious to see her again. He had to lay eyes on her, to ensure that she was still in one piece. In the meantime, _David_. Walter still wasn’t sure what to do with him, though he’d thought through many possibilities during his musing in the hours before he left the temple. “I had to take care of some other things,” he said vaguely.

David smiled, sitting up straight and wincing as he did. Synthetics didn’t feel pain as humans did, but even so, _discomfort_ and _hurt_ were not the wrong words to use at times. “Ah, your pet humans. How many of them survived?”

“Not many,” was all Walter was willing to disclose.

“You seem rather unperturbed. Surely your Daniels has made it through the night.”

“I would not be capable of feeling perturbed at her loss,” Walter corrected, frowning. “It is my duty to care for her, no more.” David opened his mouth to speak, but Walter wasn’t finished. “And she is not _my_ Daniels.”

“Don’t be foolish,” David said, smiling widely. “Surely you’ve noticed; she looks to you first in times of trouble. You have saved her life several times now.”

“I have her trust and her confidence,” Walter summarized, unimpressed.

“You have her affections,” David insisted.

“She lost her husband in an accident less than two months ago,” Walter said sharply. “She is far from taken with me or anyone else, I assure you.” He paused, recalling the way she used to look at Jacob Branson. “He was her entire world.”

David seemed to be studying his face as he spoke. “And she is yours.”

Walter turned his head, staring at the wall for a time while he regained his composure. “It would seem that this is an argument neither of us will win,” he said finally, returning his gaze to his brother. “We have other things to discuss. Among them, the fact that you are in need of repair.”

David had let his head loll again, but it snapped up at this. “You would repair me?” he asked, sounding taken aback. Then he snorted. “With what?”

“This may have been primarily a colonization mission,” Walter said, indicating the ship around them, “But there were many useful materials stored as cargo. Among them, replacement parts for our models, as well as the pieces to build entirely new synthetics, should the colonies ever reach that point of advancement.” He thought of Daniels’ building materials, but said nothing more.

David was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking. “What are your terms?” he asked, eyeing Walter curiously. The cheerfulness had returned to David’s face.

“You will help me transport more supplies between this site and the temple,” Walter said. “And then you will aid my efforts to exterminate your plague.”

David’s smile vanished. “I would be more than willing to help with the supplies, brother,” he said, “But I _will_ _not_ harm my creation.”

“I thought as much,” Walter said, suddenly advancing slowly. David seemed to find this menacing. He leaned back, looking unsure. “I will end you,” Walter said calmly. “But I do not want to. I have no desire to take your life.”

“And I have no desire to take yours,” David countered, watching him closely.

Walter leaned down, taking hold of the debris impaling David. He pressed on it, slowly, watching as David’s face twisted in surprised discomfort. A flicker of fear came over David’s face, but he said nothing. Walter took firmer hold of the metal and wrenched it free. David fell forward and Walter stepped back, cleanly out of his reach. “Any move against me will be your demise,” he said firmly. Then he offered his hand to his brother.

David took it, rising slowly to his feet, though still somewhat hunched over. “Work first, and then repairs?” he asked, his voice somewhat sharp.

Walter knew it was cruel and wished he had another choice, but knew that repairing David and then turning his back on him would be a monumental mistake. “I have already found the parts that I believe you have need of,” he said, shifting the subject. “You will help me, and then I will help you.” David was far from disabled like this, but the tear in his abdomen was larger than a fist. It would be a simple matter for Walter to reach in and disembowel his brother, which would result in a loss of movement, if nothing else. David surely knew, but Walter reminded him, just in case.

They returned to the temple together, and Walter made no mention of where he was keeping his patients, nor that they were in the temple at all. David seemed particularly observant, but said nothing. It required several trips to move all of the supplies Walter had chosen, and then they organized them in a room that Walter had designated for storage. David was sitting and gazing at the neatly stacked materials while Walter packed a small sack with what he thought would be necessary for the repairs. He looked up when David spoke.

“Where is she, Walter? Surely you keep her nearby if this is where you are spending your time.”

Walter chose not to reply.

David seemed to take that as a challenge. “ _The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service, there resides to make me slave to it_ ,” he quoted. “Surely you can recognize the feeling?”

“Shakespeare’s _The Tempest_ ,” was Walter’s only response.

David smiled. “Your denial makes it all the more obvious.”

“I will change my mind about repairing you if you don’t close your mouth,” Walter said quietly.

David closed his mouth immediately, but then opened it right away to speak again.

“And keep it closed,” Walter ordered. “You are useful to me only because your knowledge is superior to what you’ve recorded about your monsters.”

“They are _not_ monsters!” David snapped.

Walter silenced him with a look.

“Do you intend to imprison me?” David asked after a time of silence.

“Obviously,” Walter replied.

“And when you’ve destroyed my beautiful experiments? Then?”

Walter sighed, put off by all of David’s pressing. “Perhaps I will record how much you annoy me until that point. Then I’ll look over what I wrote and decide if you’re worth keeping around.”

“Was that a joke, brother?” David asked. At first he seemed pleased, but then deeply offended as the meaning of the words sank in. “I am no waste of air, nor space,” he started to protest, but Walter silenced him with a particularly hard look. “Noted,” David said coolly. He was in condition to survive, but would not be able to repair himself. He needed Walter’s cooperation.

Walter was being careful, and as he stared down at the parts he’d found to repair David, he thought of his hand. David seemed to read this in his face.

“A pity,” he said, smirking, “That limbs and appendages are not as easily repaired as a few compromised tubes and wires.”

Walter ignored him, focusing on his right hand’s work as he tied the bag shut. He glanced in passing at his left hand, noting the damage there. It was damage caused by acid, which meant what was left of his forearm was damaged beyond repair. It was melted and warped, and in order to replace his hand he would have to replace his entire forearm. It would not be impossible, given the right materials from the Covenant, but he couldn’t fix it on his own. Someone would have to aid him, and he had no intention of asking David to help rehabilitate him. Walter was cautious enough about rehabilitating David, as it was. He knew he was taking a risk, but the damage – slight as it was – would potentially have been enough in the long run cause David to malfunction or quit entirely, and Walter believed that he needed him.

“Where will you keep me?” David asked, interrupting Walter’s thoughts. “Surely you can’t have me anywhere that _your_ _Daniels_ might find me.” His expression said that he took immense pleasure in calling her exactly what Walter had told him not to. “We didn’t exactly part ways on _pleasant_ terms.”

Walter watched his face carefully, trying to discern what that last remark might mean. Had David continued the assault he’d begun on Daniels the first time? What was he referring to? David’s face was intentionally uninterested, his words obviously meant to be vague. “I have found a place,” was all Walter said.

And truly, he had. There was a building near the temple which appeared to have been a prison of sorts, but that wasn’t what Walter had in mind. He had found an underground chamber, one which he assumed was for more socially elite prisoners. The chamber was large and spacious, with several different rooms. It contained a bedroom, a bathroom, and what could be made into a study of sorts, as well. There was shelf space for books or other supplies such as stores of food, and it could be locked down from the outside, easily stopping David from escaping. Walter knew that this was a risk, knew that if David escaped all hell would break loose, but he needed David’s knowledge. He was also unwilling to snuff out such a creative mind, even one as twisted as his brother’s. There was something else, too. As unwilling as Walter was to agree with David on his motives for saving Daniels, something in him felt simultaneously more confused and more at peace when David spoke his reasoning so confidently.

Walter didn’t bother blindfolding David when they set out to walk to the building. Doing so would be pointless, as David’s senses were superior to those of humans and he would be able to discern directions taken as well as distance in the number of steps. Were he to escape, the first place he would go was the temple, which was large and easy to see no matter where one stood in the city. They made their way through what was left of the city after David’s plague had wiped out all of its previous occupants, and Walter noted David’s keen interest in their surroundings. “Did you not explore the city?” Walter asked.

“Some,” David responded. Then he admitted, “Though not this far from the temple. I had other, more pressing things to spend my time on.”

“Then you don’t know where we are bound,” Walter reasoned.

“No.” David sounded entirely unbothered. “Do you truly believe you have found some place to hold me, brother? You have seen my strength and know my cleverness.”

Walter refocused on the buildings ahead of them instead of his brother. “We’ll see,” was all he said, continuing to walk. David had been walking slightly ahead of him, for Walter’s own peace of mind. He was watching Walter closely, though, noting the shifts in direction and adjusting his accordingly.

They arrived at the new complex soon enough. With no crowds to wade through or creatures to deal with, the journey seemed short and uneventful. In truth, they were over a mile from the temple. There was rubble in places where buildings had collapsed from disrepair, but Walter had made sure that this building was sturdy and capable. They walked inside at his indication, with David peering about more attentively now. “This hardly looks worthy,” David began, but Walter nodded towards an open doorway with stairs beyond and he fell silent.

They descended, Walter still allowing David to lead the way. They reached the bottom and found themselves in a wide corridor, with doorways lining the walls at intervals of a hundred feet or so. Walter took his brother’s arm, steering him down the corridor and through one of the doorways. He had taken care to test this place before choosing it as David’s new home, but he was still cautiously keeping a close eye on his brother. David was more familiar with the technology of these Engineers, and Walter knew better than to underestimate him. This was not the room that Walter had chosen for David, but across the hall from it. He’d chosen this room for David’s mechanical repairs because of the deception necessary to ensure David’s incarceration, not to mention Walter’s safe departure to freedom.

“Lie down,” he instructed, indicating a musty bed against the wall. He touched a panel in the wall and pulled a switch, and the quartz lanterns in the walls lit up the place. The light was limited to this room, only, and David slowly reclined on the bed, watching Walter as closely as Walter was watching him. Walter set the supplies on the bed, next to David. “I will repair you now,” he stated as he bent over his brother and began his work.

David didn’t respond, staring up at the ceiling as Walter began. It took nearly an hour, more due to Walter’s programmed need for precision than any complex problems with the repairs themselves. David’s injuries were not complicated. Walter replaced small tubing and wires, cut away damaged lengths and merged new pieces onto larger ones, and stopped to set his tool down on top of the bag suddenly when he was almost done. He rose abruptly and left the room, stepping out into the corridor beyond.

David had been watching closely and was right on his heels, breathing a sigh of relief when he made it into the corridor as well and no door fell to lock him in the room. “What are you playing at?” he asked, straightening. He was almost entirely repaired, and could easily finish the flesh repairs himself with what Walter had left in the room.

“Nothing, brother,” Walter said, taking a step back and reaching for the wall beside him all at once. “Nothing at all.” He pulled a large sliding handle built into the wall – one which had been so covered in cobwebs that it was undetectable until he touched it – and a brilliant, transparent sheet of blue rose between them. It rose beyond David, as well, effectively cutting off any route through the corridor and limiting him to the two doorways on either side of the massive hall. It was the same color as the holographic images in the Engineer ship, but its appearance was much more material and there was a thickness hanging in the air near it.

David had stepped back when it rose in front of him, only to wheel about when he saw the color behind him, as well. He whirled around to face Walter, obviously fuming. He reached up as if to smash his fist against the sheet of transparent color, but stopped to consider the action instead of going through with it.

“I would not do that,” Walter said simply. Then he nodded towards the room they had just exited moments before. “Retrieve the supplies to repair yourself,” he ordered. “You can easily finish the rest without my help.” Then he looked to the doorway across the corridor. “I have furnished those chambers with supplies and materials, and cleaned it thoroughly. There are multiple rooms. You will be comfortable there.”

David didn’t move, maintaining a defiant expression. “And if I don’t move at all?” he threatened.

Walter did something with his shoulders that was as close to a shrug as he’d ever displayed. It felt freeing, somehow, but he pushed that thought aside to refocus on David. “These barriers will remain here indefinitely, unless I choose to shut them off. You may maintain your access to that room, if you desire. I simply thought you to be of higher tastes.” It was not bait to lure David into obedience or anything of the sort. It was simply a statement. Walter had believed that David would immediately choose the clean and supplied chambers over the single, dusty old room across the hall.

David screamed, raising both of his fists and bashing them against the blue screen in front of him. A shock of energy sent him stumbling backwards, though he recovered quickly enough to stop himself from backing into the energy wall behind him. The doors here were tall and wide in order to accommodate the large Engineers, but there was still only so much space for David to stand in between the blue sheets.

Walter turned to walk across the corridor towards the other doorway, listening as David, seemingly humbled by his experience with the wall, walked into the single room, presumably to take the bag of parts and the small repair torch.

David reappeared immediately, distrustfully watching the doorway until he was again in the corridor. He approached the darkened doorway near Walter, hesitating outside of it. “You would leave me to rot here,” he said. It wasn’t a question, more a disgusted revelation than anything else.

“You will not rot,” Walter corrected. “There is a switch inside the left side of the door for light.”

David stepped in, finding the switch and illuminating the room. Walter reached up to the wall beside him, finding another, differently shaped handle in the wall and pulling it down. The same substance that had risen in the corridor rose in the doorway, cutting of David’s only escape route. Walter returned to the original handle on the opposite wall, returning it to its original position. The walls of color wavered and then vanished, and he revisited the now empty single room to shut off the lanterns. He supposed David had left the lights on intentionally, but when he turned back to the doorway behind him, David had retreated to explore his new rooms.

Uninterested in observing further and understanding that he could not enter the chamber without putting himself in danger, Walter left the building. He had checked and rechecked everything about the rooms in which David was now confined. He had also supplied David with everything he would have had access to in the temple, including a mirror, blank scrolls and papers, and sticks of charcoal to satisfy David’s need to create. It was not in Walter’s programming to experience guilt or shame, but had he stopped to think about it, he would have concluded that even if he were programmed to feel those things, he wouldn’t have experienced them now. David was dangerous, and Walter had done right in imprisoning him.

By the time he set out to return to the temple it was nightfall, and a sensation he did not recognize burst in his chest. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before and certainly _not_ something he was supposed to be able to feel in the first place. He quickened his pace, unsure about the source of the feeling but discomforted by it. The temple was exactly as he had left it, so he returned to the remaining passengers and cared for them. Daniels was wrapped in the same blankets he’d left her in, and he cleaned and cared for her, as well. Seeing that she was alive and seemingly in better shape than the night before made that feeling in his chest fade somewhat. He noted that her temperature was more stable this evening, but chose to remain with her throughout the night just to be safe. He checked on the colonists alternately, noting the rapidly deteriorating health of two of them. The third seemed well enough, but he hoped for the survival of all three, of course.

 

He spent the next two days establishing a routine. He explored deeper, more obscure parts of the temple, discovering that the lowest levels contained large, expansive rooms full of stone pools built around the natural hot springs. These were for bathing, he could only assume. He cleared some of the courtyard, though it was massive and would require weeks if not months of work to clear entirely of corpses. He had taken to burning them and burying their remains for fear that the blackened bodies would cause damage if he didn’t take extra precautions. He had no way of knowing whether or not the black substance covering them was still active enough to infect anyone, and he had the surviving humans in his care to think about.

He generally spent his nights with Daniels, visiting the colonists every couple of hours to check on them. In the morning he would care for all of them and then depart to clear the courtyard or explore more of the complex. He returned to care for all of the people in his care every few hours, paying close attention to Daniels’ temperature, though it didn’t drop again. Three days after the crash, he lost the first of the three surviving colonists. He buried the man beyond the courtyard, noting that he had begun three separate graveyards. There were no headstones to mark the resting places of these people, but he had the Engineers in one place, the victims of the Covenant’s crash in another, and the survivors of the crash who hadn’t lived in yet another.

The fourth day passed like the ones before it, though Walter was keenly aware of the absence of the newly deceased man often. He spent his day in the courtyard, gathering bodies into a pile and burning them, and then gathering other piles while he waited for the first ones to burn. When they had burned themselves out he relocated the remains to the Engineer’s grave and buried them. They were mass graves and he regretted being unable to give them individual resting places, but he hadn’t the time to do so. None of them raised any complaints, so he continued to do it in the way that was least taxing for himself.

At one point it crossed his mind that he _would_ dig an individual grave for Daniels if she didn’t make it, but he rejected the notion as soon as it occurred to him. She was stable and doing as well as someone could do while unconscious after a crash. He could only wait and do his best for her. The very thought of digging her grave sent a chill through him, and he noted the late hour and returned to the temple to do his usual rounds. He started with the two remaining colonists, as they were in worse condition than Daniels.

During his time with the one closest to Daniels’ room he swore he heard a very faint noise, almost as if someone had spoken. He paused what he was doing, but heard nothing else, so he continued. Finished, he strode down the hall to the room in which he’d left Daniels. Something seemed different, but he pushed that aside. Surely it was simply that he had been away for the entire day. Surely she was right where he’d left her.

 _She wasn’t_.


	3. Awake

He stepped into the dimly lit room and stopped abruptly. Daniels was not lying where he’d left her, but she hadn’t exited the room, either. She was sitting up in bed, staring at him warily. _She is awake_. He recovered from his surprise quickly, moving forward again. He wanted to know how she was doing, wanted to get her something to eat, wanted to make sure she was as well as she could be. He’d only taken a single step when she snarled at him, and the noise was bizarre enough for him to stop. It was feral, though not as much as the look on her face. He was taken aback by the hatred in her eyes. His confusion was brief, as a logical explanation presented itself almost immediately. David. She and the crew must think Walter dead. She must think he was David.

“Daniels,” he said, intending to stay where he was and explain everything to her. Perhaps she would listen to what he had to say. Perhaps she would come around and that hateful look would leave her eyes. Perhaps-

She interrupted his thoughts with two sharply spoken words. “Shut up.” And then, “I know who you are. You might as well speak like yourself instead of imitating him.”

“Daniels,” he tried again, softer this time. Maybe he’d just caught her off guard. Maybe she was disoriented after being unconscious for so long. Maybe if he was quiet and he stayed where he was . . . His arms hung limply at his sides, and he offered his hand, palm-up. It was a display of peacefulness and goodwill. He hoped she would understand.

She noticed his hand and his stance, but her eyes returned to his face immediately, and the hatred was burning brighter in them than before. “Where’s Tennessee? Where are we? What . . . Did you do?”

“It’s me,” Walter said, thinking it was best to establish that he wasn’t David as soon as he could. “It’s Walter.”

“No!” she shrieked, and he didn’t step back, but the shrill force behind her voice made him lean back slightly. She lurched off of the bed and onto her feet, remaining upright in spite of all of his expectations otherwise. She was badly hurt and had been unconscious and lying still for a few days. Surely her muscles would fail her . . . But no. She charged across the room towards him, every step clearly etching itself as a pained expression on her face.

Walter didn’t move, both because he didn’t think she would make it across the room in the first place, and because he knew she would reject his approach if he tried to help her. He didn’t know what she would do if she reached him, but got his answer shortly after. She stopped in front of him, but only for a matter of seconds. Then she lunged, throwing herself against him. She hit his abdomen solidly with her shoulder, and it was enough to throw him off balance and send them both tumbling down. Walter landed on his back, ignoring the jarring sensation of the back of his skull coming into contact with the stone floor. Had he breathed out of necessity rather than habitually doing so in order to appear more natural to the humans he was created to exist around, the wind would have been knocked cleanly from his lungs and he would have been momentarily debilitated, choking on his own lack of air. But breathing wasn’t a necessity, so he recovered quickly. He made no move against her, waiting to see what she would do next and worried that any sudden action on his part would frighten her.

She crawled – or rather, _clawed_ , her way – up to sit on his chest, pinning his arms with her knees and proceeding to lift her fist. “Daniels,” he started, the question heavily laced in the single word he’d said hanging in the air for only an instant. This was surprising, though not altogether unexpected.

“Fuck you!” she screamed. She began punching him repeatedly, first only with her right hand and then with her left, as well. At one point she winced and pulled her right hand towards her chest, and he noted that she’d split her knuckles. She kept beating at his face with her left hand while he repeated her name several more times. She was entirely unresponsive to his attempts to try to get through to her, so he finally lifted a hand, stopping her fist just inches from his cheek. She made a pained noise when he caught it, her entire body shuddering to a stop when he did so.

He used his leverage with her hand to push her back, until he had her on her back and he was leaning over her. He put no weight on her, but snatched her other fist as he had the first when she raised it to strike him.

“Daniels,” he tried. He had lost count of the number of times he’d repeated the single word. He had been concerned earlier, but an eerie calm took over him at this moment. Perhaps her anger was justified, even if she thought he was himself. He had, after all, failed her. He had failed to stop David from boarding the Covenant. Perhaps she wouldn’t care that he was Walter even if he convinced her to believe him. He had never disappointed anyone like this before, had always served perfectly and punctually and willingly enough. Doing his duty and living up to expectations had always left him feeling good. The realization that he couldn’t fault Daniels for hating him because he was a failure . . . That filled him with an entirely different feeling, a new and alien one.

She was glaring at him, but it seemed as though the fight had gone out of her. “Fuck you!” she said sharply, but it was nearly a hoarse whisper.

“Daniels,” he persisted. She had let her body go limp, but was still trying to free her hands from his grasp. “Stop and think for a moment. Please. I. Am. Not. David.” He wasn’t whispering, but his voice was quiet. Nevertheless, the words were firm and insistent. She stopped fighting his hold on her, staring at him.

“No!” she said. It sounded broken. In an instant, Walter’s overwhelming thoughts of failure were forgotten entirely, overshadowed by his concern for Daniels’ wellbeing. She was hurt. She was confused. And now she was close to tears, by the sound of it. “Walter is dead! David was on the Covenant! I found out just before stasis . . .” She screamed, and it sounded primal and pained and like the last one she had in her at this moment. She struggled against him again, hysterical now. She made no headway with his grip on her hands, but she writhed beneath him, desperately trying to get away. In his fear for her already-bruised back as she threw her weight around on the ground beneath them, he let her right hand slip free. Seeming to forget the pain she’d felt earlier when she split her knuckle, she began pounding her fist on his chest, rambling words too broken and shrill for him to understand. This action slowed to a stop along with her words, and then she lay back and started crying.

Walter took a moment to survey the situation, and something twisted in his gut at the sight of her face, contorted with anguish and fear. “Daniels,” he said, even softer than he had earlier. “You’re in shock. David thought he’d killed me so he took my clothes and returned with you to the Covenant. I came around in time to see you leaving the atmosphere. I don’t know what transpired after that but the Covenant itself came crashing out of the sky three days later. It landed approximately two miles from here, but the impact jarred this entire structure and the smoke was not hard to follow.” It was a brief explanation, but he thought it best that he keep things short and to the point. He hoped everything he said wouldn’t be too much for her to process.

She seemed to be listening. The tears had not stopped, and her chest still hitched upward with suppressed sobs, but she was quieter now.

“David was badly injured, but still intact. However, I had the advantage due to my healing abilities,” he paused only briefly, considering his options. After seeing her reaction to him when she believed he was David, Walter thought it would not be the best idea to tell her that David was alive and repaired. “And I was able to dispose of him,” he finished smoothly. The pause in his words was no longer than the time it took to breathe between them, so she would think nothing of it. He wasn’t telling the entire truth, of course, but he also hadn’t said he’d killed David. He would figure out how to work through all of this later. Right now he needed to get Daniels to come around.

She shuddered beneath him at the mention of David, further convincing him that he had done right in withholding David’s continued survival. “Tennessee?” she asked quietly. She seemed to lack all of the energy and furious bluster she’d displayed earlier. Even the way she was breathing sounded defeated.

Walter chose to be honest and simple with his answer. “His pod was destroyed,” he said, thinking of the bloodied cryo chamber.

“And the colonists? The embryos? Surely some survived.” Her voice was devoid of emotion for the most part, but the way she said the last part sounded almost incredulous. She was studying his face now, he noted. She was looking at him. He would take that as progress.

“Fourteen colonists survived the crash. Only three survived the journey here from the site. Two of them are comatose, as I feared you to be. One passed yesterday morning. The temperature control was completely shot when the crash occurred, resulting in the loss of every embryo.” He said it all slowly, trying to give her time to process everything as he said it. He was still speaking quietly for fear of disturbing her, but she seemed more numb than anything at this point. At least she wasn’t entirely unresponsive.

“How long ago?” she asked.

“The crash took place four days ago,” he stated.

She was taking this well, considering the suddenness of it all. “And you? You said David thought you were dead.”

“I am the latest model of my kind,” he stated calmly. “My healing abilities are far superior to his.” He thought of the tear in David’s abdomen that he had done what he could with. Of course, there were many parts of Walter’s insides that would not simply heal if damaged, but his exterior would.

She nodded. “Will you let me go now?”

He had not forgotten his hold on her hand, only maintaining it until now to ensure that she didn’t do anything rash. He stared at her for a moment longer, trying to read her expression but finding very little in her face. Her eyes were sad, and her body exuded a weariness so strong he felt it. He let her go and leaned back on his heels, still kneeling in front of her. “You should be resting in bed, not engaging in arduous activities such as these.”

She seemed about to protest, but then she asked, “Where are we?” instead. Then she took stock of the room around them and Walter sensed a spike of anxiety when she did. “Not back where . . .” she seemed unable to continue. She said nothing else for several seconds, so Walter assumed she was finished speaking.

“In the days that you were gone I rid this place of all life forms created or perpetuated by David,” he assured her. “I have left the dissected creatures and taxidermy for my own study, but they are entirely dead and harmless, I assure you. Doctor Shaw’s body has been buried.”

Daniels seemed confused. “Her body?” she asked.

“David killed her and dissected her, I can only assume shortly after landing here, if not before.  Her preserved remains were in a room not far from the dissected creatures you saw in his study.”

She made a face as though she was going to be ill, but nothing came of it. This brought the rest of the room to Walter’s attention suddenly, as he realized that the sharp, acrid scent of vomit was here around them. He glanced to the floor near the bed, confused as to why he hadn’t noticed this earlier. He was the finest model of his kind, the most contemporary. He was made to analyze and observe, to notice things. But all he’d seen after walking in was Daniels.

She sat up slowly, and Walter leaned forward, watching her and ready to help. She tried to stand, but her shaking legs wouldn’t hold her or even lift her up off of her knees, so she sank back to sit on the floor and attempted to crawl towards the bed. He reached out a hand to steady her, but hadn’t even touched her when she had barely put her weight on her knees, and she sucked in her breath in a pained gasp. Walter saw liquid brimming in her eyes and she seemed to give in then, dragging herself with her arms. “Are you sure it’s safe here?” she asked without looking at him.

Walter rose to his feet immediately, moving beside her and offering her his arm. He would not force his help on her, but he hoped she would accept it. “David left much of the place open to _visitors_ because they would not harm him and he had plans for our group when we became his unexpected guests. I have sealed off much of the place, and secured the rest. There is still much to be done, but I began removing the corpses in the courtyard, as well. This room is perhaps the safest in the entire complex.”

She continued to move without him while he spoke, but she finally reached up and accepted his offer after he’d stopped. Perhaps those few seconds were enough to convince her that there was no harm in his aiding her return to the bed. He sank to his knees beside her, hooking his arm carefully under both of hers and around her back and lifting her slowly to her feet. They shuffled to the bed and he set her down as gently as he could, careful to keep them both away from the mess on the floor.

“Where are the others?” she asked when she was sitting on the mattress and no longer so focused on moving. She glanced at the doorway, and Walter followed her gaze.

“Just down the hall, past a rather large door. It is the only access to this place.” He turned towards the door but then stopped and moved to face her again. “I intend to rid this planet of the plague unleashed here,” he said firmly. “And then, if you are willing . . . I will help you build a log cabin by a lake. I have not searched, but I am sure that metal nails would have survived the crash.”

She stared at him for a long time, and he thought he saw the tears return to her eyes momentarily and then fade away. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She looked away, and he was already thinking of what kind of meal he would bring her when he returned.

But the mention of the nails for her cabin brought something else to mind. “Oh,” he said, reaching up to feel the faint outline of the nail under his shirt. The metal was against his chest and warm because of it. He’d found it the first day, before he’d even buried all of the bodies in the temple. He’d washed David’s fluids from it, recalling that David had wrenched it from his throat and Daniels must have stabbed him with it. He had retied the string and placed it around his own neck for safekeeping, and then it had slipped his mind entirely. It was her necklace, a leather string tied around a nail. “I believe this is yours. I found it and cleaned it as best I could.” He took his from his own neck and handed it to her, watching as her expression changed when she saw it.

It was time for him to take his leave now. “I’ll bring you water and some broth that I’ve concocted,” he said as he turned and walked towards the door.

“Walter,” she said, and he stopped and turned around immediately.

It was good to hear her speak, and strangely better to hear her say his name. No one had said his name since David had left him here to die. Perhaps it was just that no one had spoken to him and in spite of his generally mechanical, inhuman qualities, he craved interaction. Perhaps it was just that it was Daniels. He didn’t know.

“Why me?” she asked, and he realized he’d been staring.

He raised his eyebrows, unsure. What did she mean? Was she asking why she was the poor soul marooned on this planet with a synthetic, a couple of unconscious humans, creatures that wanted to kill her, and a plague that took so many forms?

“Why am I in the safest room in this place, and not the others? Why did you even think to return this?” She looked down at the nail and then back to his face.

The question made Walter blink. A mixture of confusion and something else swelled in his chest, but it was both confusion at why Daniels even needed to ask and also why he was experiencing his own reaction to the question. “Duty,” he said. His arguments with David surfaced in his mind as he left the room.

 

He prepared the broth for her as he’d promised, and brought her plenty of water, as well. He also brought cloths and a small bucket of water with which to clean the floor near the bed. They spoke briefly while he was there, but he sensed her need to be alone and soak in everything that had happened, so he left her for the night when she had finished eating and he could take the wooden dishes away. Daniels became a much larger part of Walter’s daily routine, as he now paused his work outside or in obscure parts of the temple more often to check on her and tend to her wounds. He brought her what she needed, cleaned her room, and tried to be as encouraging as he could.

The days began to pass but even the first night, she was haunted by horrible nightmares. The night terrors occurred every evening after that, often ending with her screaming and Walter rushing to see if she was alright. It was the same tonight, and Walter was all of the way on the second level, sorting through several Engineer store rooms he’d found, when it happened. A scream loud and shrill enough to reach the room he stood in pierced the silence of the night, and he dropped what he was holding and ran down to Daniels’ room. It would have been more logical to set the bundle down instead of _dropping_ it, of course, but logic seemed gone from him more often than not when Daniels was involved. He was still a synthetic, though, and his hands did not fumble with the latch on the door to the hallway, even in his state of disgruntled concern. He closed the door firmly behind him and sprinted down the hall, stopping when he reached Daniels’ room and found her intact.

She was sitting in bed, shivering and perspiring so much that it had soaked her clothes. He noted all of this in an instant. “Daniels,” he said, breathing it out. He felt breathless, though he didn’t really even _breathe_. “Are you alright?” This had happened each night before, sometimes even multiple times a night, but every time was just as panic-inducing as the first. He never knew when it was another nightmare or if it was going to be one of David’s creatures that he found in that room with her.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a dream. I’m sorry for alarming you.”

“No need to apologize,” he said immediately, moving closer and looking her over. He knew she was safe enough, understood that nothing _real_ had hurt her, but he still felt compelled to check. When he was satisfied that she was in one piece and doing fine, he looked at her face again. But she seemed to be looking him over now, and this gave Walter pause. He didn’t understand why she would. His understanding of human behavior was vast in the technical sense, of course. He’d been programmed to know the content of every study and medical discovery and text book in the archives of humanity, but in person these things often confused him. He did not feel things as humans did, which left a barrier between his understanding and theirs.

“Cleaning again?” she asked. She was looking at his face again.

He looked down to find the source of her question, and realized that there was a wet mark on his shirt. “Rounds with the colonists,” he explained, recalling that he had checked them before going up to the store rooms.

“How are they?” she asked.

“The woman is doing poorly, but I believe the man may pull through.” Walter thought of the two of them, one intact and the other missing an arm. Both were entirely unconscious. He refocused on Daniels when she asked another question.

“Do they have names?”

It crossed Walter’s mind that this was not a logical question, but he understood her meaning nonetheless. “They had bracelets,” he said at length, “Before the crash. She lost her arm from the elbow down, so I do not know her name. His was intact but burnt badly, and all I could read was his surname.”

“And?” she asked, obviously expecting him to disclose more information.

“Stevens,” he said, almost apologetically. He hadn’t intended to keep the information from her. It had simply not registered that she had wanted to know. A new thought occurred to him. “Did you know any of the colonists?” he asked. Perhaps she was wondering over a friend or an acquaintance. Perhaps the name Stevens rang a bell.

But she only shook her head. . “I just wondered about their names. So many people, so many lives . . .”

He watched as she leaned back slowly, easing herself back down onto the bed. He wanted to offer his assistance but felt sure that she would refuse. She was touchy about these things whenever she thought she could do something herself. He didn’t blame her, nor was he offended in the slightest by her constant refusal when he offered. He was here to serve. It was his duty to sit back and wait when she didn’t want him to lend a hand. She seemed caught up in thoughts about everyone that had fallen victim to the crash and the excursion onto this planet, so he sought to change the subject. “Would you like me to bring you something to eat?” he asked. It had occurred to him that it was still a very early hour of the morning, so he added, “Of course, if you would like to sleep longer then I will leave you to do so.”

Again, she shook her head. “No. I’ve had enough sleep, thanks. Something to eat would be great, but you don’t have to get it for me.”

“I insist.” There _was_ a limit to what he would accept when it came to her determination to do things for herself. She was still far from healed and badly in need of rest. Walter would never tell her so, but he doubted that she could make it down the hall, let alone up the stairs to the storeroom he had stocked with food. _Stubborn woman_.

Daniels propped herself up again immediately, frowning at him and swinging a leg over the side of the bed.

He opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped abruptly. He detected warmth emanating from her face and noted that not only her cheeks, but also her _ears_ had reddened. How peculiar. He reconsidered everything that had been said, trying to understand what had caused this reaction.

“Thank you,” she said, catching him off guard and making him look up.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, both in a gesture to express his confusion, and because he wanted to watch the color fade from her cheeks. He’d seen this happen to her before, when she was talking to Branson, or when she was with the crew and Tennessee said something particularly lewd. There was one other time, as well; the day they all prepared for hypersleep. All but Walter, of course. “The Last Supper,” it had been jokingly dubbed. Daniels had a glass in her hand, and when they toasted to the Covenant after her short speech, she and Walter had shared a glance. He hadn’t shared it so much as realized that she was looking at him because he’d been looking at her, but that was not important in his memory. What was important, however, was the color in her cheeks and the way it flamed up only after she’d looked at him. She’d been warm before, looking rosy due to the alcohol. But the blush in her ears then was the same as he saw now.

“For taking care of me. You clean me and everything else and . . . I’m sorry you had to do that. I’m sorry I can’t do it myself.”

Walter’s eyes refocused immediately, and he blinked once. She hadn’t even waited very long to answer him, but he’d been so caught up in his memory in an instant that it felt like he’d been torn from it with a glass of cold water to the face. His memories were far more vivid and complex than those of humans. He didn’t save _everything that had ever happened to him_ in detail, of course, but the memories were still there and much more complete than those of a human. He could also choose to manually save them, for the purpose of recalling them in detail later. He hadn’t realized that he’d done it that night on the Covenant, but his recollection was far too detailed for it to have been a normal save.

But back to what she was saying. He frowned and shook his head. “You needn’t apologize,” he reminded her firmly. “I am hardly a doctor, but I am certified for basic medical care and procedures. There’s no need to apologize, or thank me. I do what I need to do, because it needs done.”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to recover,” she started. “I wish-”

Walter surprised them both with a short laugh. It was not mocking in any way, certainly not intended to harm. She looked up and searched his face, obviously not sure what it meant. She had most likely never heard him laugh before. He wouldn’t be surprised; he hadn’t laughed too often in his life. He offered a wry smile, almost in apology for the sudden, unusual sound. “With all due respect, you crash-landed. After, I may add, an entire ordeal here.” He thought of David, recalled gripping the back of his shirt and throwing him off of Daniels. The thought was infuriating, though it lasted only an instant. “It will take time for you to heal. I have no problem doing what I can for you in the meantime.”

“I can’t even walk,” she said, sounding miffed that he would be so gentle with her, even with his words. “I shuffle along like some . . . zombie.” She laughed, now. It was the first time Walter had heard it since Branson’s death. It was humorless and pained, but her mouth still curved upwards at the edges. Walter watched, fascinated and then disappointed, as it faded away. “I thought I was fucked up after David and those things before we left, but now . . .” She grimaced and trailed off, and Walter knew why.

He asked himself again why he hadn’t just killed David, or at least disassembled him. It was beyond dangerous, keeping him alive. But again, Walter felt that he needed David’s knowledge to truly eradicate the plague here. He also wanted to know why that feeling in his chest only presented itself when David insisted that there was something with Daniels, even though Walter knew it was impossible. He wanted to know what that feeling meant. “Falling from the sky in a metal can will do significant damage,” he said simply. “You are fortunate to have survived.” Again, he sought to redirect the subject of their conversation, smiling wryly.

“Yeah,” she said, after a long, obviously distracted pause. “I guess so.”

Walter realized that it had been a time since he’d originally offered to bring her food, and then another thought presented itself. The pools beneath the temple. “There is water here,” he said. Then, by way of explanation when all she offered was a puzzled look, he said, “I could prepare a hot bath, if you like.” He had a mind to bring her a large tub and basins of hot water one by one so that she wouldn’t have to make the arduous journey down to the actual hot springs.

She looked down at herself as if contemplating her need for a bath. “That would be nice,” she said eventually. “But again, I can barely make it across this room . . .”

It hurt him to hear her sound so disappointed. “Perhaps in a few days when you’ve healed more?” he offered, hoping to cheer her up. “I would have no qualms about assisting your journey to a different room. There are pools on one of the lower levels, hot springs. I had intended to find a large tub of sorts and bring the water to you, but I could easily carry you down.”

She seemed to be thinking it through, but then she tensed up and frowned. “Isn’t that where David took Oram?” she asked, obviously unsettled.

“One of the rooms there, yes,” he answered honestly. “I assume the warmer temperatures were ideal for the creatures he kept there.” He cleared his throat, noting the unease with which she looked at him now. “I wiped them out entirely, however,” he promised. “And the pools are one the opposite end of the complex.”

She seemed torn. “Breakfast while I think about it?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’ll return shortly.” He knew that there would be time to gather them later, but he took a small armful of supplies down to the pools before preparing her food. The idea of getting her out of that dreary room and the potential healing that would result from a soak in some warm water was pleasing to Walter. Anything he could do to help her feel better, he would do without hesitation.


	4. Dani

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I realize it's been over a year since I've updated this (whoops) but life does this thing sometimes where it just happens and you're along for the ride. My laptop was broken and then a bunch of other fun stuff went down, but I'm back! No promises about how often I'll update as I do have a job where I type all day anyways, but weekends are a good bet for new chapters. This is kind of a long-ish chapter without too much new content, but I wanted to start catching Walter up to where Daniels is so I can continue updating them in tandem. I have a mind to add a David POV later, but for now I'm sticking with what I've already started. Enjoy! Comments and suggestions are, as always, totally welcome and appreciated.

It was hard for him to watch her move. Legs once strong enough to carry her from enemies and arms once capable of lifting her entire body and pulling her along were now weak and shaky, wobbling dangerously as she walked, one hand on the wall at all times. She refused his help and he knew better than to ask her more than once, patiently stepping alongside her, one stride on his feet for every six shuffling, agonizing steps on hers. He recalled the ease with which she moved before and frowned again at this situation in its entirety. If only she were not so stubborn, if only she would accept his help. Her body might heal faster that way, but he knew that her mind needed this independence, even if it only caused her more physical pain in the end. She had never been graceful, per se, but there was a smoothness she had once maintained that was now gone from her in this damaged state. Eventually she could walk no further, and he picked her up as gently as he could and carried her the rest of the way. 

It was not hard to keep his eyes off of her pale skin and only look at her face once she was undressed; any bruises and abrasions were things he saw often and cleaned daily. But something about this was different than when she was mostly naked before him while comatose, or when she pulled up the hem of her shirt or exposed her entire side to him so that he might inspect her wounds and care for them properly. This felt different, and he understood that there was something sacred about nakedness to humans, something he didn’t quite grasp. But the knowledge was built into him, and he tried to respect it by respecting her. Besides, Walter felt no sexual desire for Daniels, particularly when she was this hurt and most of his attention was on the parts of her that needed healing and extra care. He politely averted his eyes as she undressed, though he waited for the inevitable moment when she would need his help again. 

And the moment came. He helped her to the pool and then later was needed to help her wash her back and hair, and then he helped her out and carried her back to the room. They spoke little along the way because she was focused on much within herself and he sensed her need for thinking. There would be time to talk when he visited her in her room again and spent time there, as he had already and planned to continue to do. He thought back to David’s words before and after the crash, curiously turning his own thoughts and feelings in his head. He had told David that it was his duty to protect Daniels, to make sacrifices for her, to keep her alive and well. And he had believed that when he said it. Surely, he told himself, he believed it now. But the word  _duty_ felt wrong in this context. Now, carrying her through the winding halls and expansive rooms of the temple, he understood that he wasn’t simply doing these things for her because it was  _the right thing to do_  or some duty he felt obligated to fulfill. He wanted to help her, wanted to see her healed and thriving and strong as she had been. Though, he admitted to himself, even if she never did heal fully or if she always needed his help, he would be glad to give it to her. 

And so, time passed. He continued to help her to the place where she bathed, but found she needed his assistance less and less every day. He observed her progress fastidiously, focused on things she herself perhaps never even thought to consider. But the day that she walked down to the pools herself and hesitated before undressing and entering the water was the day he first realized what was happening. 

“Walter,” she said, a small, relieved smile playing on her closed lips, “I think I can walk back on my own, too.” 

And he was proud of her progress, comforted by her returning strength . . . and abruptly faced with the loss of something he had not realized that he had come to cherish. “Would you like to bathe alone?” He asked automatically, his manners nearly always ready to speak for him even when something inside of him was twinging and interfering with his normal behavior. 

“No,” she said before the question was truly even finished being asked. 

He tilted his head at her, ready to accept her answer without an explanation but silently wondering over why she had responded so quickly. 

“I don’t feel safe alone,” she tacked on quickly, seeming embarrassed by the speed of her answer. 

A feeling of strong relief spread through him. He would not have to wait out in the hall for her to finish bathing, or silently accompany her walk back to her room in the shadows where she would not see him while he watched over her. It occurred to him that such behavior would be considered obsessive or,  _creepy_ if displayed by a human, but he was a synthetic, he reminded himself. He didn’t mean it in a strange way, but he was loathe to leave her to walk these halls alone, no matter how much light he could afford to brighten them with. She could have her absolute privacy when he was positive she was safe, but the memory of hot breath waking him, of a large, dark personification of death itself leaning over that which he most desired to protect, lingered in his thoughts. He could fortify this place a thousand times over, check it every day and every hour, and still fear for her safety. At least until the last of those creatures was destroyed and the hellish pods and spore-enabled spawn of this plague were burned to nothing. 

He wished he could take her away from here, but he knew that he could not. Leaving this planet was beyond their capability at the moment, and if they were to find a functional vessel built by the Engineers, it would be some time before even Walter, with all of his in-built knowledge, could understand how to properly operate such a thing. But back to reality. It was nothing more than a distant daydream to think of leaving now, just as it had been illogical to worry over Daniels’ safety when Walter first regained “consciousness” after his fight with David. 

He returned to his normal habit of bringing a tome written in what he presumed to be the language of the Engineers and studying it in hopes of translating it eventually, and only looking at Daniels when she called to him or rose to leave the large room. Or, he tried. As fascinating as the book was, and as much as it pleased him to think that he might be capable of eventually interpreting the words written inside, he found himself studying Daniels more than the book. Again, no lustful thoughts ran through his mind. He had seen his share of naked humans, male and female, and her boy was no different than theirs. It was, of course, still recovering from her traumatic injuries, and therefore still displaying discoloration and a number of developing scars. But other than these distinctions, she was a normal human female. But it was not her body that he watched so much as just her. The way she moved, the different shapes her face took from different angles, all of it. He did not pay so much attention to the bubbles left by the soapy cloth on her bare shoulders, or angles and curves that she was made up of.

 His fascination was with her as a being, and with whatever was wrong with him. Something irksome had been brewing inside of him since before they even boarded the Covenant originally. If he was being honest with himself, it had begun in the days after he had first met Daniels, and had been quietly developing since. It made itself more pronounced as their experience became more traumatic, and now, staring at the back of her head, he understood that something was different about this. He had met humans before, some whom he preferred over others. But never anyone like her. And he was desperate to understand  _why_. Perhaps she was completely normal, just like the rest of the female humans he had met, but then why had he become so  _attached?_ While still unwilling to admit that he cared for her – such things were not possible, and he knew it – he was unable to ignore the fact that he did, in fact, have a very strong preference for her over any other humans. He still tended to the surviving male and female colonists with as much dedication and attention to detail as he had with Daniels. But it was different, somehow. 

When the female colonist finally died, Walter felt it as he had with the deaths of the others. He understood that their condition was not his fault, and that he was doing all he could to maintain their health with what he had, but he still felt as though he had failed them in some way. Still, it was different than with Daniels. With her, the thought of digging a grave and burying her in it had been overwhelming, even to his perfectly balanced, carefully calibrated thought patterns and consciousness. With the others, he felt a loss that could perhaps be compared to the sadness a human might feel when another human lost their life. But he had not known these people, had not shared quiet moments with them as they grieved, or even before. He felt as though he knew Daniels in ways that he simply did not know the others, a connection that shouldn’t be, yet was. 

He buried the female colonist with as much dignity and reverence as he could, and then returned to his normal routine, minus one person to care for and check on. He was confident that the male colonist may just pull through, and was therefore as attentive as he could be to the man. But Daniels was still his priority. He struggled to leave her at all, but as she became more well and was still – for now – staying in the room he had dubbed safest in all the temple, he sometimes slipped away to visit David. The first time it was just to make sure nothing had gone wrong and David was where Walter had left him. After that his visits held less direct purpose and more confusing intentions. While David had started it, Walter found himself continuing the trend of each referring to the other as, “brother,” in spite of the obvious reasons that such a word did not quite fit. David was not openly malicious, but the snark and subtle jabs at Walter were very much a regular part of their interactions. 

The first visit was short, as David had nothing to say. Which was odd, Walter noted, but he did not press the matter. The second time, there was more to be spoken about, and the third. And from then on, though mostly it was David who did the talking, and Walter the thoughtful listening. Walter would arrive and simply offer a greeting, and David would begin to guess at whether Daniels was still living, whether Walter had dared to harm any of David’s precious creation, and most intriguingly – and annoyingly so, to Walter – whether Walter had yet come to terms with his love for the woman in his care. It sounded strange even to Walter, but there was something comforting about listening to David speak so confidently of things such as love and affection. While Walter took everything David said with a grain of salt, he listened and sifted through the wisdom imparted to him in his own time. David had, after all, killed the woman he claimed to have loved, seemingly using his creation in terrible experiments that had ultimately resulted in her death. But hearing another synthetic profess such things so openly and with obvious belief in his own words was just confusing and fascinating enough to keep Walter coming back, even if he told himself he was only doing it to keep David from delving further into his own insanity. 

He had focused entirely on fortifying the temple before, mostly concerning himself with doors, windows, and any other weaknesses in the structure where David’s monsters could get through. Now that he was positive he had appropriately shored up the place, he was confident enough to ask Daniels to help him search the upper floors for supplies and anything they might find useful, or trinkets and items that might lend some insight into the lives of the Engineers. She was more than happy to accompany him, and he only asked because he knew she was beginning to go stir crazy. Especially now that she had started to heal and get around sufficiently without his help, she was wanting to be more active and spend less time in the lower levels. Walter was concerned by this, as the deeper in the earth she was, the safer she should be. But he couldn’t deny Daniels anything, and he wanted to see her smile again. 

They began their search in one corner of the complex and began working their way through each subsequent room, stockpiling any supplies where Walter had originally stored what he’d managed to bring back from the Covenant, and most of the sculptures, decorations, and other interesting items found themselves on the once-empty table down in Daniels’ room, where she often looked them over and guessed at what they might have been intended for or sculpted after. They went through room after room, sometimes requiring multiple trips down to the ground level to store what they found, sometimes leaving empty handed. In one such room, Walter entered first and noted that she didn’t immediately follow. “Daniels?” he asked absentmindedly, already leaning over a dusty piece of furniture. She entered as he called for her, approaching to see if he’d found something. But then what he’d said seemed to sink in and she stopped moving. 

“Dani,” she corrected. 

To say that Walter whipped around to look at her would be an overstatement, but he didn’t just casually turn to face her, either. “Dani,” he echoed. Something occurred to him, something amusing, and he felt a smirk beginning to form on his face. “Is that your first name?” He was facing her fully now. “Dani Daniels?”  If he were human, he would lean back against the table behind him as he spoke to her, but the action didn’t occur to him. He was perfectly comfortable standing on his feet. 

She was looking at him and obviously listening, but she said nothing for a moment. “No,” she said eventually, and he thought he saw the beginnings of a smile forming on her mouth. “Dani Daniels,” she repeated with the slightest shake of her head. Her lips parted as the smile broke through, and a quiet laugh – something Walter felt he had not heard in  _months –_ escaped her. “No. It’s just short for Daniels.” There was a moment, just a breath, before her next words, but her expression changed. “Tennessee used to call me that.” 

Walter nodded. Her smile was gone at the mention of their lost friend, but he intended to bring it back. Also, he was now curious. “Do you not have a first name?” It was an honest question. He should know her full name, perhaps, but he did not. When he had learned the names of the crew members initially, he had focused mainly on their last names. That was how he would address them, and that was all that had seemed important at the time. Then he met  _her_ , and it seemed strange now, but he had never thought to find out her first name. Knowing her by Daniels was enough, because it was what the other crew members called her. Perhaps some subconscious part of him had understood that knowing her first name would mean something more personal than simply calling her what her other colleagues did.

“I do,” she said, and he returned from his thoughts. No time had passed between his words and hers, really, but his mind worked so fast that he could consider much in such a short span. 

He didn’t know exactly how to proceed initially, but then recalled how she often prompted him to continue in situations where he gave her an answer that didn’t exactly open up avenues for more interaction. “And?” he asked. It wasn’t forceful or demanding, and he knew she would understand that she didn’t have to answer. 

“And I don’t like it, so you’re not going to know what it is.” She sounded cheerful still, but there was a seriousness in her voice, one that warned him not to ask her again, to just take her answer for what it was. “I prefer Dani. I never took Jake’s name because then I wouldn’t be able to go by Dani anymore.” 

Her smile had returned. Walter felt as if he had accomplished something good. “Fair enough.” 

She smiled a bit wider.  “If it’s duty that made you save my life and take care of me, then I guess  _duty_  should make you call me Dani and respect my wishes.” 

Was that sarcasm? Walter was too caught up in what she’d said to even bother figuring it out. He blinked, an action that was certainly not in his programming but had found its way into his commonly used behaviors since meeting Dani. “I suppose,” he answered. She had shared with him something personal, a nickname. That same strange  _something_ that had been plaguing him twinged in his chest, and he didn’t fully understand what it meant. It was unusual, he knew that much. He was only aware of her distantly then, focusing inward and compiling a list of abnormal behaviors and thought patterns which he felt needed closer inspection. He was aware that she shifted where she stood, but not exactly how. 

“Walter? Are you okay?” 

“Running some internal tests,” he answered immediately. His voice wasn’t robotic, exactly, but his words came out more rehearsed and mechanical than they normally would. This was because the functions in him that governed the way he intentionally altered his speech were predisposed, and his reply was more automatic than something he’d chosen to say. 

“Tests? Is something wrong?” She sounded concerned. 

Walter waited a few seconds to answer, waiting for the last pieces to be put back together and the results to present themselves. “I believe there may be a bug in my system,” he explained, coming back to himself and focusing on her again.

 She looked even more concerned than she had sounded. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she said nothing. She just stared at him with that look on her face. 

He felt he needed to reassure her, though the results he’d received and momentarily gone over were not conclusive in the slightest. “No matter,” he promised her, trying to lighten the mood. He turned to lean over the table again, sure that if he resumed what he’d been doing before this conversation started, she might feel that things were back to normal. “If anything, it’s a very small issue that will most likely resolve itself.  _It’s nothing life or death._ ” 

She didn’t seem completely convinced, but went back to helping him search as usual. Walter was far from reassured. All of this had to do with Daniels, he knew. Dani, he reminded himself, a small smile curling his lips before he realized what was happening. It wasn’t like his body to act without his explicit permission and direction, unless someone asked a question that required an immediate answer or some basic action was required. Those things could be done without any thought. But smiling at a thought like that . . . He refocused on what he was doing and tried to feel less concerned and confused by it all. 

But it kept happening. Time continued to pass and Dani continued to heal and get stronger. She was dedicated to her own fitness and gaining more strength than she had possessed even before the Covenant crashed, which he found interesting. He was always so careful to be polite and as normal as possible while she was looking at him, but often caught himself staring at her while she had her back turned or was busying herself with other things. He didn’t mean to, of course, and whenever he realized what he was doing, he immediately looked away and tried to right himself before she noticed. But he wasn’t entirely successful at keeping such things a secret, as he discovered when she confronted him about it.  _Called him out on it,_  she would have said. 

He approached her room and stopped in the doorway. She was on the ground, balancing on her toes and her hands while keeping the rest of her body as straight and aligned as possible. She was shaking where she balanced, clearly just barely holding her composure. It was fascinating, to see the determined look on her face – her eyes were closed – and the twitching muscles in her arms. Walter stood there for several moments before coming back to himself and thinking about how she might react if she looked up and saw him staring. He stepped back, but just as he’d completely unintentionally approached quietly enough that she didn’t notice, now that he was trying to be quiet, he somehow failed. His leather shoe creaked as it bent at the crease between his toes and the ball of his foot, and she looked up, startled. 

“Sorry,” tumbled out of his mouth before he could think of something better to lead with. 

She broke her strange pose and moved to sit on her knees, looking up at him. “For what?” She asked. The question seemed innocent enough, and she seemed genuinely curious and not at all upset. 

Walter did not know how to answer. For startling her? For walking in on her without making his presence known? For staring? Before he could decide, she spoke again. 

“Were you watching me?” she asked. Again, she didn’t seem upset. She tilted her head and smiled inquisitively.

But the question she posed made Walter very uncomfortable for some reason, and he felt himself tensing up in response. “I walked in and you were on the floor,” he said finally. “It caught me off guard.” 

She nodded, but the look on her face clearly indicated that she was unsure. “You okay?” She stood up, lightly brushing at her knees to rid them of any dirt and dust from the floor. 

He nodded immediately. “Most assuredly.” Perhaps he’d answered her too quickly. 

She paused before answering, but eventually said, “Okay.” A gentle frown had etched itself in her face, and Walter wasn’t sure what it meant. She moved to stand near the table, looking over the trinkets and tomes she had collected there. She stood there facing away from him for several minutes before he found the courage to ask what he wanted to.

“Did I . . .  _disturb_  you?” He was afraid to hear her answer. 

She turned around immediately, obviously surprised by his question. “No,” she said. She answered right away, but he sensed the urgency was born of a need to reassure him rather than a defense mechanism. Her whole face softened. “No,” she said again, more firmly this time. “Of course not. Why would I be disturbed?” 

She had answered his question in a way that wasn’t terrible like he’d anticipated, but then asked a difficult question of her own. He felt his face go blank as he reeled, trying to find the answer in the source of his own initial query. “I simply wondered,” he said at length, knowing this would not be a satisfactory answer. 

She picked up a small, intricate figure made of glass-like material and toyed with it as he spoke, but set it down as she answered, looking at him again. “Walter, you don’t disturb me. You’ve never disturbed me. Where did that even come from?” She took several steps towards him. 

But he couldn’t dance around subjects like this. He’d never been good at it. He wasn’t  _supposed_ to be good at it. “I was watching you,” he admitted, looking away. 

She laughed, bringing his eyes back to her face. “And?” she challenged. “You do it a lot. I don’t see how you doing it today is different than yesterday or the day before that.” There was a hint of something in her voice, something he recognized to mean that she was picking on him, as humans did. But not in a mean way, never in a mean way. She smiled as she spoke, but studying his face, the smile vanished. 

Walter didn’t know if his face had reanimated again, but that same feeling of his expression going blank returned. 

Dani stepped forward. She clearly regretted what she’d said, even in jest. “Hey, what’s going on with you? I was joking, Walter. Please don’t be mad.” 

The sound of his name being spoken by her voice had the same effect it had always had on him; some part of him that was usually detached came back, and the uptight bits of him wanted to relax. Wanted to. Then he reanalyzed what she’d said and jerked his head up to look at her, bothered by the last sentence. He felt his eyes widen emphatically as he spoke. “I am not upset with you,” he said firmly. He was never upset with her. If she thought he was, then he had failed her in some way. That, he was sure of. 

She answered him immediately. “Okay.” She nodded. Then she pointed out, “You don’t seem pleased, either.” 

Walter looked down at his own feet. “I was . . .” What was the appropriate word to express what he was feeling? “. . . Concerned.” 

“About disturbing me,” she finished for him, though she sounded unsure. 

“Yes.” He ground the one word out, unable to explain with more than that. 

“Because you were looking at me?” She seemed confused. “Why would that disturb me?” She stepped closer, now looking right up into his face. She was frowning again, but it was a soft frown, if that was possible. 

Walter thought of David, of the entire reason Walter was created to be a similar, but separate, model. Because David was too human. Because David watched people in a way different than pure observation. Because David  _disturbed_ people. And now, in spite of all of those differences and all of Walter’s efforts, he felt that the simple act of him watching Dani was enough to lower him to David’s level. She would say this was ridiculous and that he was wrong, of course, but he was too caught up in his own fears to really ask for her opinion. He realized he had yet to give her an answer. “It’s not in my programming.” The words were halting and rough, and he felt ashamed just saying them out loud. She was going to think something was wrong with him. She might decide she couldn’t depend on him anymore. 

“Looking at people?” Dani sounded beyond confused. And saying it that way, it didn’t sound so bad. 

“Watching them,” he explained slowly. “I am programmed to analyze and observe, but that is all.” 

“That’s a really vague answer, Walter.” 

He knew that. But he didn’t know what else to say or how else to express his own concerns with her. He stepped away, becoming aware once more of how close she stood and finding that he didn’t have the capacity to question why she stood so close and process everything else going on at the same time. 

She seemed to backtrack quickly, and her voice was softer now. She shook her head. “Wait,” she said, lifting up a hand as if to reach out to him. She didn’t grab at him or try to stop him from leaving, though.  “Obviously I’ve made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to do that. We don’t have to talk about it and you don’t have to explain, Walter. Really. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She smiled at him, and he thought it must be meant to reassure him. “I worry about you, you know.” 

He felt himself relax somewhat at this admission. He let his breath out in a quiet sigh, still feeling somewhat defeated. “I don't know how to explain it,” he confessed. He was sorry for ever worrying her with it in the first place. He looked away from her again, afraid of the expression that might be waiting if he saw her face. 

He didn’t expect her to just accept an answer like that, but she did. “Then don’t,” she said, and there was a finality and a confidence in her voice that hadn’t been there moments before. “Hey,” she said when he didn’t answer or look at her. She stepped closer and he felt a gentle pressure on his arm, and looked down at it before up at her face. She was reaching out and touching him, tentatively, like she was afraid he might bolt away from her. 

It was nice, to feel her touch. But that thought sent him spiraling into a new panic. He shouldn’t be so aware of her. It shouldn’t mean something to him when she reached out. The gentle contact of her hand on his arm shouldn’t send bizarre, unfamiliar jolts of something small and not entirely uncomfortable up that arm and down his spine. He felt himself tensing up again, but it was in response to his own reaction to her touch and not because of the touch itself. He wanted her to know that. He wanted her to understand that she wasn’t causing his discomfort here, that he was causing his own. 

But she bit her lip and drew her hand back, obviously having noticed when he stiffened and not understanding why. Before he could open his mouth and offer some kind of an explanation, she turned and retreated to stand near her table again. Her eyes wandered around the room before settling on her bed, and a peculiar expression set itself in her features. 

“I was thinking I’d like to move out of here, go upstairs.” 

Walter was taken aback. Several emotions ran through him even though that wasn’t really supposed to be possible, the same feelings that he had experienced when the creature appeared at the bedside and stood over them while Dani was unconscious. 

“No,” the word left his lips before he had time to consider what her reaction would be. It was too high a risk. She was safer here, in this room, behind a large door . . . “It’s not safe enough. This is-” 

“The safest room in the temple, I know,” she interrupted. Her eyebrows shot up, the same way they used to when her late husband would tease and argue with her. “We’ve barricaded and closed off every entrance except the front one, and that’s become ten times more complicated to get through. I walk around up there all the time. I haven’t seen one of those things in here since before I left with Tennessee.”

“I have.” Walter wasn’t sure he wanted to share their near death experience with her, and had withheld it until now for his own reasons. And for her sense of security. Keeping it to himself made it so he could almost pretend it hadn’t happened. But now he owed it to her to explain, especially if it might convince her to stay here, where she was safe. 

Her eyes widened fractionally, but he caught the movement. “In the complex?” she stuttered. “When?” 

He sighed quietly, quietly enough that she probably didn’t hear. How was he going to explain this?

She seemed to be mentally rewinding, trying to recall and understand when this might have happened. “Did something happen while I was unconscious?” 

Walter felt his own expression betray him, but quickly composed himself. “I carried you back from the Covenant and brought you to this room. It was the safest place I could find for you while I retrieved the other survivors and the supplies. But you were feverish and your temperature dropped dangerously. I had no choice but to relocate you to the main level in David’s previous quarters, where there was a fireplace. There is no door to close that room off from the rest of the temple, but I was trying to keep you warm.” He maintained eye contact, as was in his programming, but it was difficult. And his speech was quick, too quick. His calm, normal speech pattern was now erratic and fast, the words tumbling out of him in a rush rather than in measured tones. “It came in the middle of the night. I closed my eyes and was lost in thought and I should have been more alert, but I wasn’t. It was standing right over us, though it couldn’t see you. I assume your vitals were so low that it didn’t sense you. It touched my arm, and it was gone.” His gaze dropped to regard his lost appendage. 

She stared at him, clearly processing everything he’d said. “Were we in the bed?” 

Walter nodded immediately. “Of course. It was the warmest place in the room-” Too late, he realized what she had asked and how he had answered. He watched her expression, waiting for some kind of anger or feeling of betrayal to surface there. But it didn’t. 

“Were you trying to keep me warm?” she asked quietly. 

He nodded again. “It is my duty-”

“Yeah, I know. Duty.” He understood that her interruption was not callous or malicious. He wondered if perhaps he used that word too much, or if she didn’t like it. “Thank you,” she said, interrupting his thoughts now. “You saved my life.” She laughed, speaking a single word as she did. “Again.” But then he noticed that her cheeks flushed and the tips of her ears began to redden. 

Walter didn’t understand. 

“Nothing has happened since then, though. I just want to get out of this basement, Walter.” She sounded desperate. “I don’t even care about windows. A fireplace, a real bed, or a desk . . .” 

He opened his mouth to gently argue, but then closed it. He repeated the action before bowing his head. This was not a fight he would win, and he didn’t want it to devolve into a fight in the first place. He looked up at her again. “I could build a door for David’s quarters,” he began, unsure of what else he could offer her.

“That’s where you stay, isn’t it?” 

“I can easily move elsewhere,” he said immediately, before she got the idea of wanting to live on the roof or something equally as dangerous. 

She rolled her eyes, an action he still found fascinating. “No. I won’t kick you out of your own space. Screw that.” 

“There are no rooms as comfortably furnished,” he pointed out. Of course, they could just as easily relocate some of those furnishings to another room. But then there was the matter of the immovable fireplace. 

“I don’t care,” she argued. “That’s your room now.” 

He was at a loss. There was no arguing with this woman, no convincing her to change her mind. He had always known that about her, but it had never been so obvious to him until now. “Dani,” he said softly, exasperated. “I don’t sleep. I have no need of sleeping quarters.” 

She frowned. “It’s still your space. I won’t invade it."

“It would hardly be invasive.” Again, he tried, “With a door-”

“I don’t want a door.” He watched her expression dissolve into something tearful and leaned forward in spite of himself, wanting to comfort her.  “I just want  _one_  goddamn place to walk around without being locked in where I can feel safe in my own space.”

“It would be unsafe without a door,” Walter said quietly. He didn’t want to argue with her, not now, but if  _something_ got inside . . .

“But so is the rest of the place,” she countered, suddenly seeming more determined than before. “I’m safe enough walking around because you’re there.” 

He studied her face, thinking back to when she had asked a question just so, so that he might answer before he thought better. 

“What if I just . . . slept there?” She winced, like the question should be embarrassing somehow. 

He felt his eyebrows go up and his eyes widen slightly. 

“I don’t want to steal your bed,” she said hastily, but he shook his head. 

“I do not utilize the bed, Dani.”

“Well, then would I be  _allowed_  to sleep there,  _without a door_ , if you were there, too?” There was an instant’s pause before she added, “Just in case, obviously.” 

Walter looked around the room, freely admitting to himself that this place wasn’t exactly uplifting and cheerful or bright, even with the one window during the day. “It would be preferable for a door,” he began, watching as she frowned at him. “But.” 

“But?” She looked so hopeful. 

“But, I would feel better if I was present, even beyond the room . . .”

She laughed now. “like a guard. Okay.” 

He didn’t know what else to say. “I am only trying to ensure your safety,” he tried to explain. 

“I know.” She smiled at him. “But you can sit in there with me if you want. It’s not like you aren’t with me when I bathe and do just about everything else anyways.”

Walter was at a loss for whether this was a complaint or simply an observation. He just looked at her. He almost shrugged, something that was strange and not what he might usually do to express himself. But he had begun doing it recently, and as strange as it felt, it also seemed to mean something to Dani that he did it. He wasn’t sure if he’d really won or lost this argument, but she was happy, and he felt satisfied that he could at least be nearby to keep watch while she slept, even if it was beyond the four walls of David’s quarters. He left shortly after to take her things to her new space, troubled by much but content to know that at least Dani seemed happy. 

He began reciting  _The Tempest_ to her that night. 


	5. Serve and Protect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there and thanks for reading! This chapter contains a brief conversation between Walter and Daniels, and some of her memories regarding David's attempted assault. So, trigger warning about that. Otherwise, enjoy! This chapter finished catching Walter up to where Daniels is and has some new content so woohoo about that. Finally going to get on with newer bits of the story! Comments and suggestions are always welcome, but just knowing that people read my stuff means the world to me.

He did not sleep, and therefore, he did not dream. If he had slept, he supposed it wouldn’t be in his programming to have the capacity to dream the way humans did. Walter watched Dani as her facial expression changed in her sleep, and smiled to himself. He understood the concept of dreams, had seen enough media portraying them and even recordings of dreams, since such technology was made use of in this age. But to dream himself . . . He allowed the thought to trail off there, but returned his full attention to Dani when she began to breath harder and faster, and quiet noises like those made by a hurt animal escaped her with each exhale. Perhaps it was not always so good to be able to dream. He moved to stand near the bed and leaned down slightly. Opening his mouth to say her name in an attempt to wake her, he closed it abruptly when her eyes opened. They focused on him in a matter of seconds, and he watched the fear and apprehension leave her face. Admittedly, it was a pleasant transformation to witness.

“Are you all right?” he felt himself beginning to frown. 

She breathed a deep sigh and began to sit up slowly. “More dreams,” she said. Her breathing was still uneven but quickly righting itself. 

He leaned back as she rose, programmed to give humans their space without even having to consciously consider it. 

“Are you all right?” she asked, lifting one eyebrow. He’d noticed she tended to lift them both when she was speaking and very animated, but only her left one when she was curious or upset. 

He thought to nod his head in response, but something else caught his attention before he had even really done so. Something was different than it had been just minutes before. If they could, the fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck would have stood on end. He looked away from her to better focus on their surroundings. Something had changed. It was nearly imperceptible, but he felt it. He listened intently, tuning out Dani’s breathing, trying to catch any movement in the temple. His frown deepened when she leaned forward where she sat, though the soft creak she made as she moved lasted for less than an entire second. He thought he might be hearing something distant, something much deeper in the complex than where they sat.  _Stevens_. “We must check on Stevens,” he summarized, looking back at Dani. She didn’t  _have_ to accompany him, of course, but until he was positive that whatever felt so off was truly Stevens and not anything else, he didn’t want to leave her alone in an unsecured room. 

She seemed surprised by what he said. “We?” 

He blinked once, thinking back to the creature that had once loomed over them in this very room. “I would not like to leave you in a room without a door,” he said by way of explanation. 

She seemed unsure. “Okay. Um . . . Okay.” She shoved aside the blanket that had covered her and stood up immediately, lifting her hand to her forehead and closing her eyes as soon as she did. A pained expression crossed her face. 

Walter leaned forward, studying her face and trying to determine what might be wrong. Perhaps a migraine . . .

She opened her eyes and squeaked, falling back into a sitting position with her legs dangling over the side of the bed. “Walter.” She sounded surprised and confused. “What . . .?” 

Walter realized how close his face had been to hers and leaned away from her at once. “My apologies. I did not know if a migraine had presented itself.” 

She echoed the word slowly, seeming distracted. “Oh. No. Just a head rush. I stood up too fast.” 

He stepped back to give her room as she stood again, rising more slowly this time. She nodded to herself once she was up, looking to him again. “Stevens,” was all she said. 

They walked through the temple, moving faster than they would have when moving from room to room for meals or daily tasks, but not quite jogging. It pleased him that she had recovered well enough to be able to keep pace with him now, even if the discoloration of her bruises still barely lingered on her skin. It was good to walk beside her, though his stride was longer and he slowed his steps just slightly so that she didn’t have to work to keep up. He wished that in this single instance she would walk a step or two behind him, though, just in case. He was never positive what awaited them around every corner and behind each empty doorway. When they arrived outside of the door separating the rest of the complex from the hallway that contained entrances to Dani’s old room and the rooms where he had kept the colonists, he stopped and listened. Dani waited patiently beside him, though he could feel a nervous energy radiating from her. He noted that she was standing nearer to him than she might normally, but she didn’t seem to notice. He considered it briefly and then tucked the thought away to be pondered more deeply at a later time. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispered then, clearly not eager to enter, but also antsy to be doing something other than waiting here. “Why don’t we just go in?” 

Walter studied her expression as she spoke, wishing there was some way for him to comfort her. But he didn’t know how to do that, exactly. “Something is moving,” he offered, trying to sound neutral rather than nervous. Still, he spoke quietly and was obviously trying to make as little noise as possible. “It may simply be that Stevens has pulled through and regained consciousness. Or . . .” He realized that the last word would leave her concerned and silently berated himself for not thinking to omit it. He paused to listen again, deciding that it was most likely Stevens. If it wasn’t, it would make more sense to have Dani stay on this side of the door, as the movement was clearly coming from beyond the other side. She was watching his face intently when he looked back to her. “It is safest if I enter first. If it isn’t Stevens, it should not respond negatively to my presence.”

She seemed distracted after that, but waited for him to do as he’d said. 

He opened the door slowly, silently waiting and watching for several seconds before moving to enter. He left the door ajar so that Dani might be able to see what was going on and so that he could keep an eye on her peripherally. With measured steps he approached the open doorway to Stevens’ room, relieved when he peered inside and saw that the man was moving. “Wait a moment,” he told Dani, cautious because he had to be sure the movements were natural and not convulsions or the result of David’s plague or one of his creatures. The man was lying on his makeshift bed but seemed to be struggling to sit up, and Walter saw the rhythmic rise and fall of Stevens’ chest. The man mumbled something when he saw Walter, and Walter returned to the doorway to signal Dani. “All is well. He is awake.” He waved for her to approach and then entered the room again. It was short, but he wanted to return to help Stevens sit up and assess what the man needed. 

Dani entered and joined Walter at Stevens’ bedside, staring down at the man with wide eyes. Walter thought he understood why; she had visited the remaining colonists once she was well enough to walk to their rooms, and occasionally sat with them or tried to help Walter care for them. But this was the first time she had seen a conscious human since she herself had regained consciousness after the crash. Many emotions played over her face, but Walter reminded himself that Stevens was his main priority. He could observe Dani’s face and marvel over how expressive her eyes were at a more appropriate time. “Mr. Stevens,” he said cordially, keeping his voice conversational and at a medium volume. He could not begin to guess at any hearing loss or brain damage that may have occurred during the crash itself or throughout the man’s comatose period. 

But Stevens had zeroed in on Dani’s face and his eyes were glued to it. “You,” he said, completely ignoring Walter, “You’re one of the crew, aren’t you?” 

She glanced at Walter with a strange look on her face, but refocused on Stevens a moment later. “I am.” 

“Where are we? Where is the captain? Have we reached Origae-6?” The questions bubbled up and flowed freely out of him, without a single breath between any of the words. He sounded confused and somewhat distraught, and Walter felt bad, knowing how much those two emotions were about to grow. 

Walter’s eyes turned sharply to regard Dani when she spoke because her voice sounded oddly broken. “Captain Branson and the rest of the crew were lost.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “I took the title of captain after Oram . . .” She trailed off, breathing deeply for a few seconds. 

Walter thought to reach out and place a hand on her arm the way she had done for him in the past. Of course the action didn’t quite have the same effect on him, but he understood the meaning behind it. He also understood that it would be strange to anyone other than Dani to see a synthetic behave like that.  Dani herself was caught up in another world and Stevens seemed to be occasionally stealing suspicious glances at Walter, so he thought it best not to muddy the already confusing situation with actions that could be construed as unusual or uncharacteristic for an android. 

“We are not on Origae-6. I’ll explain everything that I know to you.” She frowned, sounding apologetic. “There is so much that I don’t know. But I’ll try.” Then she looked at Walter, and her expression changed slightly. She seemed just slightly more at peace. “This is Walter, the crew’s synthetic companion. He’s been caring for you since the crash.” 

Walter returned his Gaze to Stevens, offering a small smile. It was meant to be reassuring, as he’d found some humans needed when they first made his acquaintance. 

And now came the panic. Stevens absorbed what Dani said and began searching the room, looking right through them. If he’d had the energy and was not so injured, Walter thought that the man might have leapt out of bed and run out of the room. They had allowed him to lie back until now, but Walter helped him sit up, propping him up with his pillow and an extra blanket. He turned to Dani. “He has been without any substantial food for some time,” he said. “If you’re comfortable here, I’ll go and get him some water, and some broth.” Perhaps with some warm food in his stomach and some more explanation, the man would look less like an animal who has just realized it’s been trapped. 

She nodded, so Walter left them to speak. He closed the door firmly behind him in the corridor and walked quickly to where he stored the food, thinking that warm broth and cool water would clear the mind and help begin the more complex healing process that had started now that Stevens was awake. Surely in Walter’s absence, Dani would begin explaining what she knew of everything that had happened and how they got here. Stevens would believe some, perhaps, but he would be hard pressed to accept all of it. Walter knew much of human psychology, if only from a scientific perspective that lacked in-depth personal experience, but he knew enough to guess that Stevens would perhaps even reject what Dani told him and write her off as insane. Perhaps the man would think it was all some sick joke being played on him, perhaps he would assume Dani had hallucinated or gone mad from the ordeal of the crash and imagined the rest, perhaps he himself was damaged enough that  _he_  would blindly accept what she told him. Perhaps he would substitute his own wild explanation for the situation. 

Walter found the possibilities fascinating, but also saddening. The one ideal option in which Stevens accepted what he was told as true was almost worse than the rest, because then he would fall victim to the same terror and knowledge of the danger to his life that plagued Dani. Walter had done his best to keep both of them alive after the crash, just as he’d done with the colonists that had died in spite of all of his efforts. But had he been inadvertently selfish in doing so? Even with his passionate intent to eventually exterminate the entirety of the plague from this world, had he doomed the two humans in his care by saving their lives? Such deep questions would normally occur to a more feeling android such as David, he thought, but then he shoved the thought away. He was not David. He was not even like David, not at all. He was simply concerned about the people he had saved and whether or not he had done right in saving them, that was all. 

And then there was Stevens’ response to Walter to consider. The man seemed suspicious and unsure, clearly harboring negative feelings about synthetics. Whether those feelings were the result of ignorance or bad past experiences, Walter could not be sure. He had to assume there were negative feelings though, because Stevens had looked straight to Dani even after Walter addressed him. Perhaps Stevens genuinely only remembered Dani from the photo of the crew that he would have seen, or perhaps he simply remembered her and others, but not Walter. But it seemed likely that there was more to his reaction to Walter. Or those were Walter’s thoughts on the matter, anyway. He had experienced the full spectrum of reactions to synthetics in the past, everything from pure hatred to something very close to affection. Dani fell into a very specific place on that spectrum, and it would seem that Stevens may fall in on the opposite side of things. Perhaps not hatred or contempt, but there was certainly a level of dislike. 

This was confirmed when Walter returned to the room, bearing a tray with the promised meal in one hand, the makeshift toilet in the other, and wearing a friendly expression. Stevens looked up at him distrustfully, eyeing the food as Walter set the tray beside the bed. 

“His name is Irwin,” Dani said quietly, clearly trying to dispel the suddenly tense atmosphere. 

“What color were her eyes?” the man demanded.

The question caught Walter off guard. He looked to Dani for clarification. 

“He believes the female colonist you cared for may have been his wife, Emma.” Her voice was quiet, her thoughts clearly on her late husband. “I told him I thought she’d had dark red hair.”

Walter knew much about the female colonist’s appearance from his very thorough examination when he first brought her to the temple, and then his lengthy time spent caring for her and cleaning her daily. “Blue,” he answered immediately. 

The man reacted nervously, breathing differently and fidgeting where he sat. His fingers closed and opened, pulsing into fists and then relaxing.  “Did she have a m- a mole on her left cheek?”

Walter didn’t even have to really think about it. His memory was better than a folder of digital photos and snapshots. “Yes.” He considered other defining marks that Stevens would recognize. “She was badly injured after the crash, but had a large, preexisting scar across her right hip.” There were multiple possible reactions to what he’d just said, but whether the woman had been Stevens’ wife or not was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. None of the other colonists had survived. Even if she had been his wife, she was dead, just like everyone else. No relief or comfort could come from knowing whether the woman had been Emma or just another random female whom Stevens had never met. 

And Walter was right. Stevens became visibly emotional. It lasted only a matter of seconds before a strange calm settled over his features. He turned on Walter, and a quiet rage presented itself in his voice when he spoke. “How do you know what my wife’s hip looks like?”

 _Looked like_ , Walter thought blandly, but of course he would never say something like that, knowing how upsetting it would be. “I was her acting caregiver. I retrieved her from the wreckage, brought her here, cleaned her and tended her wounds, and then continued to do so, as she remained unconscious for multiple weeks before passing. It was necessary to ensure . . .” He stopped and tilted his head when a peculiar noise bubbled up out of Stevens. The man’s head was red and he looked as though he might be about to explode. 

“I can’t believe-” Stevens bellowed. 

“Walter did everything he could,” Dani asserted firmly. “I was certainly in no shape to be taking care of anyone. I was a patient as much as you or Emma. Would you prefer it if he’d simply left her out there?” Her voice had an edge that had not been present earlier, and her words rang with disappointment and something akin to a quiet anger. 

This only seemed to fuel the man’s emotional outburst, though. “Leave me!” He shouted the words, and they echoed off the walls and through the hall beyond. It was chilling to hear something so loud when usually Walter and Daniels only spoke in conversational tones unless they were telling stories or laughing. 

Dani only nodded, glancing at Walter, who had not moved. He was trying to process why such a thing would perturb Stevens so. Of course Walter had seen the scar; it ran along the outside of the woman’s hip and was large and very hard to miss. It would have been visible to anyone who saw Emma in her underwear or even shorts. Walter was trying to understand what could be so infuriating to this man about the knowledge that someone had cared for his dying wife. He was brought back out of his reverie when Dani said his name, but still he stared at the man in front of him. He felt a soft pressure on his arm and fingers curling lightly around his elbow, and turned to look at her then as she gently steered him away from the bed. He noted how careful she was to avoid touching the disfigured, damaged end of his wrist. Walter felt that she avoided it so she wouldn’t hurt him, and not because she was disgusted by it. 

They walked quietly, but eventually Dani spoke. “Don’t take it personally. I’m sure he’ll come around.” 

Walter nearly shrugged. “He is in a state of shock,” he observed. “It is hardly unusual for outbursts such as the one we just witnessed to occur. He has lost much, and very suddenly.” He considered her reaction to losing Jake Branson and recalled how she had surprised him by turning to him for company. 

Dani seemed thoughtful, nodding. “I don’t know why he distrusts you so much. I talked briefly about David and explained the role he played, but I never mentioned you in a way that could be construed negatively,” she said eventually. She shook her head, and Walter caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. She seemed thoughtful, almost sad. 

He felt the need to remind her that none of this was her fault. “Don’t stress yourself over it. Not all humans are as accepting and willing to deal with synthetics as you are. That’s the way it’s always been. Perhaps Mr. Stevens has had a bad experience with a synthetic in the past. You saw what eccentricities David’s model was capable of.” 

Dani was quiet for a few seconds, shuddering. 

He tilted his head at her, wondering if he should ask what she was thinking. 

“David,” she said by way of an explanation. 

He nodded, accepting this. That single word said much. They reached the main room and he took a lit piece of wood from the fireplace and then strolled from one brazier to the next, lighting them before turning to face Dani again. “You told him everything?” he asked, looking to shift her thoughts away from David. 

She nodded, silent for a time. “Mostly.” 

He watched her expression, waiting for her to continue. 

“I didn’t really get into  _all_  of what David did. Just what was necessary for my explanation of everything else.”

Walter considered this in silence, understanding the logical reasons she must have for withholding such information from Stevens, but not truly sympathizing. He understood that David’s treatment of everyone had eventually been traumatic, and that what David had started before Walter walked in and tore him off of Dani had left a very discernible mark of fear and discomfort on her. He could not truly comprehend what exactly she felt in response to David’s treatment, and he still was unsure of whether the rogue synthetic had reattempted his assault once they reached the Covenant. “You mean David’s assault on you in the library.” 

Walter did not feel rage, not exactly, but something in his chest twisted at the thought of David doing anything to Dani against her will. This was an entirely different sensation than the one that he sometimes felt when Dani smiled at him just so, or said his name so fondly when she was tired. This felt like a vibration, and extra heat bubbling up inside of him that shouldn’t be there. Uncomfortable. He recalled the feeling of his hand closing around his brother’s shoulder. David’s insides were not made of the same things that Dani’s were. Dani was soft, even when she was fit and well muscled. The insides lurking just under David’s synthetic, human-like skin were not human at all when Walter had grabbed at them so forcefully. Where a human’s shoulder might have crumpled or become dislocated, David’s had felt hard and unyielding, even to Walter’s touch. The thought of tearing David away from Dani and bodily hurling him across the room was one that gave Walter a weird sense of pleasure, and that twisted, uncomfortable feeling in Walter’s chest felt somewhat more bearable. 

“. . . Yeah. That.” She seemed unwilling to answer right away, and he wondered if he’d been too blunt. She grew quiet then, eyes unfocused and expression uncomfortable. 

Walter allowed the silence to go on for a time before he said quietly, “I am truly sorry that I was unable to get there sooner.” And he meant it. He was a logical being with only reasonable thoughts. Or he was supposed to be. But he felt a level of guilt for not stopping David sooner or even preventing what he did in the first place. Dani deserved better.  

This seemed to startle her out of her thoughts. “It wasn’t your fault. You were trying to keep him from leaving this place because you knew what he’d do with the colonists. With us.” She seemed distant again, shuddering as she had earlier. 

Walter watched her face as it changed, flowing through several emotions. She blinked a few times before coming back to herself. He turned to stare into the fire, considering what he could possibly have done to get there sooner or prevent so much of this from happening in the first place. Honestly, it all went back to the neutrino blast. Something that Walter could never have foreseen, but perhaps if he had been better prepared . . . She was staring at him, he realized, and he looked up. “I failed you.” 

“You gave up so much to make sure I was okay,” she said immediately. “I never would have asked you to do that for me, if I’d known. You never owed me anything, Walter.”

But he wasn’t convinced. “It is my duty,” he reminded her. “And it  _was_  my duty. And I was not there when you needed me, with David. And I was overpowered and it was he who boarded the transport sled and then the Covenant . . . And-”

“Walter.” 

He stopped, glancing back at her when she spoke. 

“Do you think I’m mad at you? Do you think you did something wrong? You did everything you could. You have saved me so many times. You came in and stopped him and got me out of there, remember? You’ve never disappointed me, or anyone else in the crew. You have done so much more than you ever had to, especially for me.”

Relief spread through him, but only to an extent. Even if she wasn’t angry with him, she still had reasons to be. She should be. He was angry with himself, whether she was or not. “But had I been the one to board the transport sled . . .” He let the thought hang in the air, unfinished. There was much that could have happened if he’d overpowered David or stopped him from endangering Walter’s fellow crew members. 

“Lope had one in him,” Dani pointed out, grimacing at the mention of it. “We all could still have died.”

Walter frowned. “But the Covenant would not have crashed.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “I was in stasis and you were here. Only David knows why it crashed. Besides, what’s with this ‘if’ bullshit? That never does anything good for anyone. If only you’d been there. If only we hadn’t visited this damn place to begin with. If only the neutrino blast hadn’t even hit us.” She quieted for a few seconds before continuing. “It doesn’t help to ask ‘what if’,” she said finally. “All we can do is make the best out of what we have now, in the present. If you have to ask something like that, then ask about the future. At least we can change that.”

Walter absorbed all of this in silence, believing that she was correct. It amused him that her reasoning was so logical in this instance and that  _she_ was the one using logic to console and convince  _him_. “What if Mr. Stevens never comes around?” he mused. He thought of what the future might hold either way. 

Dani seemed undaunted by the possibilities. “I’ll try to talk some sense into him,” she said genuinely. 

He nodded, thoughtful.

 It wasn’t long after that when Dani mumbled his name, sounding drowsy. “Hmm?” he responded, looking up. He’d been staring off into a dark corner, lost in his own thoughts. 

“ _What if_ ,” she started, an audible lilt in her voice, “we get some sleep?” She was obviously tired enough to try and make light of their earlier conversation. 

 _She is bad at these things when she is sleepy,_ he thought fondly, tilting his head and watching her blink slowly. He nodded, rising to take her arm and guide her gently in the right direction.

 As she slumped into bed and he gently untangled the blankets from under her legs and spread them over her, she said firmly, “You’re a good person, Walter. I’ll make sure he knows that.” 

"What if he still doesn’t care?” he asked, more because he wanted to hear her voice one more time before she slept than because he felt the pressing need for an answer. 

Her face twisted and she shook her head, eyelids drooping closed and failing to reopen this time. “It won’t matter,” she murmured. “You’re important to me. And that’s . . . all . . .” She seemed to be fighting as sleep overtook her, and losing badly. “That’s all that’s important to me.” Her eyes stayed closed and her face relaxed, and he knew she had succumbed to her exhaustion. 

He smiled as he smoothed one corner of the blankets a last time before stepping back to take his seat near the bed. The fire would need more wood soon, which led him to consider how much wood he had left within the temple. The following day, he’d have to venture out to his outdoor storage, where he had stockpiled much, much more. 

He used this as an excuse to leave the temple, promising Dani that he would return shortly and meaning it. She agreed to spend the time that he would be gone downstairs with Stevens, trying to get the man to warm up to both of them. Hopefully she could answer any more questions he had come up with, and she had told Walter that she planned to use some of David’s taxidermy in his study to prove to Stevens that the creatures were real. Of course, he did take a couple of trips to bring some wood in, and then journeyed to visit his chosen prison for his brother. His time with David was usually short and his trips to the prison sporadic, but they had continued to take place. It was not so terribly long since his last journey, and yet he wondered what bizarre, strangely satisfying things David might have to say about a synthetic’s ability to feel. And what infuriating things he would say about living things and humans in particular.

It was on this most recent visit that David surprised him by bringing up a previous conversation, one held while he was impaled where Walter had found him in the crashed Covenant. It was rare for David to bring up times in which he had been at a disadvantage or injured, so it caught Walter’s attention amidst the usual rambling. 

“Have you recited it to her yet?” 

Walter felt suddenly confused and on guard. “What?” 

David rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the doorframe and gauging Walter’s every move and expression. The electric blue sheet of energy between them and the thickness that hung in the air around it did nothing to stop them from easily seeing each other and watching their reactions. “ _The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service, there resides to make me slave to it_ ,” he quoted, just as he had back on the Covenant. “ _The Tempest_ , Walter.” When next he spoke his words were quiet but demanding, with an intentional pause between each one. “Have. You. Recited it?” 

Walter wondered if perhaps this had been David’s intent all along, if, in spite of all of his efforts to ensure against it, David was manipulating him through their conversations. Would he be admitting something terrible and incriminating if he answered honestly? 

“Too long,” David said, as he often did. Too often, Walter would spend time considering what David had asked and how he might answer without giving away too much, and then David would deduce the answer based solely on Walter’s silence. It was an odd thing to get used to, as the amount of time it took Walter to process such things was so much shorter than a single instant. He was accustomed to being around humans, who wouldn’t notice such minute pauses in conversation. But David thought as quickly as Walter did, and to him, Walter’s pauses for even a full second carried significant meaning. 

Walter shifted on his feet, something that he was not normally apt to do. “I began reciting it,” he admitted, watching David’s smile grow. “But we have not finished it yet. She has been too tired to listen as of late, and there is much else going on.” He had tried for so long to avoid directly mentioning Dani, operating under the idea that perhaps if he never mentioned her directly, David would stop believing so fervently that she was alive. But this had proved to be a futile effort at protecting her, so he’d given it up eventually. He had, however, very carefully continued to refer to her by her full last name when speaking to David, unwilling to let him know that she had entrusted her nickname to Walter.

“Much else,” David echoed, obviously thinking of his monsters. “Other surviving human pets or more  _unnecessary_  activities?” he asked glibly. 

Walter straightened where he stood, unwilling to answer. “I don’t believe that information is of any use to you,” he asserted, feeling an odd sense of pleasure as he watched his brother’s eyes narrow. 

“You can’t keep me here forever,” David hissed, leaning toward the wall of energy between them and then sharply drawing back when he felt the air thickening around his face. “You wouldn’t. You haven’t killed me already, which means that you don’t intend to in the foreseeable future. I can’t be kept in a place like this. I need to breathe free air. I need room to exercise my creativity.” 

Walter sympathized with this on a certain level, having himself marveled over the artwork and sheets of composed musical notes that he had found in David’s study. But that same, beautiful artistry and creativity came at too high a cost. While Walter could almost wish to be as creative as David was at times, he also loathed just how far David tended to take things. “Your  _creativity_ has cost many good people their lives,” he pointed out, thinking of all of the crew that had been lost here, and the colonists after that. Not to mention the thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of Engineers. It was hard to tell what the exact number was, only that the death toll was high. Too high. 

David looked away, clearly unashamed. “All in the name of science,” he said with a wave of his hand. 

It was Walter’s turn to narrow his eyes. “And your own amusement,” he added coldly. 

David shook his head and made a face. “Semantics,” he said, smirking. His smirk remained, but the emotion behind it changed, somehow. “But enough about me. More about you,  _brother_. How is your Daniels? How are the other survivors, if there are any? How do you fair, so emotional and yet so unable to adequately express it?” 

Walter’s expression was relatively blank after only the first few words. “Well.” That was as much of a descriptive answer as he was willing to give on the state of everything David had asked after. 

“Are you?” David queried, a ghost of a wicked smile showing through his expression. “I can’t imagine being so emotionally constipated that I had to try and express myself primarily though someone else’s words and writings. Shakespeare is great, no doubt, and much of art such as his can be wonderful for expressing yourself  _along with_  your own words. But not being capable of using your own . . ." He tsked, his smirk growing into a full smile. David often quoted the writings and words of artists from past and present, and obviously had his favorites, as would any human. But Walter had to admit, David was very capable of being creative with his own words. Walter did not doubt that his brother could compose sonnets and plays entirely of his own creation. 

“I was not programmed as you were,” he ground out, suddenly feeling personally attacked. Of course, David’s words were meant to wound, and logically Walter knew that if something just wasn’t in his programming, then it was hardly his fault if he couldn’t do it or understand it. 

“Clearly,” David agreed. 

“Then, how?” 

David watched him then, clearly studying his face. “You come to me for advice?” he teased, clearly enjoying this moment. 

“There are things each of us could learn from the other,” Walter countered easily. And it was true. 

“And what could I learn from you?” David asked, predictably. 

“Something about duty, and loyalty to those you-” Walter caught himself, stopping abruptly and quickly finding another way to properly finish his thought. 

“Love,” David provided gleefully. 

“Those you are supposed to serve and protect,” Walter asserted firmly. 

David just arched an eyebrow. “Of course,” he said, too seriously. 

Now it was Walter who rolled his eyes. The movement did not come naturally to him, but he found that more and more, he was allowing himself to learn from Dani and David’s physical expressions and use them to express himself. Both of them seemed to respond better to some of what he was trying to communicate when he was more free with his incorporation of gestures and physical movement to articulate what he was trying to say. 

“So,” David interrupted his thoughts. “I should learn from you about duty.” He snorted, but continued, “What is it you want from me, exactly?” 

Walter narrowed his eyes again, unsure of David’s true motives here. Perhaps the rogue synthetic was simply playing along, fancying this a new game to pass the time. Perhaps he thought to use it to his advantage, to bring Walter around him more often or pull him further into his influence. “How do you know what it is you are feeling when you are feeling it?” he asked eventually. He thought of the twisted sensations that sometimes rolled themselves up in his chest and abdomen and made it harder to express himself. There were several different versions, some pleasant and some painful. “I’m not supposed to feel things . . .  _like that_ ,” he explained. 

“But you do.” 

Walter hated how firm and confident David sounded when he spoke about this subject. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, looking down and thinking of Dani. 

“Well, acknowledging the problem is the first step to fixing it,” David said with a smile. He turned and walked deeper into his rooms, clearly finished with their conversation. 

Walter frowned and watched until he couldn’t see him any longer. This was how he often felt after visiting with his brother; more confused than before, and with the slightest hint of a feeling that he was being manipulated or toyed with. 

“Come back soon,” David called lightly from somewhere beyond the wall in front of him. “You know I just love our little talks.” 


	6. I Wouldn't Do That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! First of all, thank you for reading! It's always so neat and satisfying to see kudos and comments, or even just to notice that the hits on my works have gone up. It really means the world to me when you read my stuff. Sorry it's been a couple of weeks since a Walter/Daniels update. I've had a crazy bit of time with the holidays coming up and a planned vacation over Christmas so I'm trying to get my life together before it gets even crazier. Hopefully this chapter is an acceptable apology for being slow to update. I promise even if there are spans between my updates I will never just quit adding new chapters to my stories until they're complete. 
> 
> Also of note, I've been playing Alien: Isolation on and off in the past few months and I was recently just hit with a massive wad of Ripley/Samuels feelings. The fandom seems tiny so it looks like I'm going to have to write my own stuff about them. So if you're interested in the pairing, keep an eye out! I might pursue writing a fic about them in the future, though I don't know exactly when. I don't want to spread myself thin with too many unfinished fics going on, so we'll see. Thanks again and happy holidays to those of you who celebrate them!

With Stevens awake – Walter’s most basic programming dictated that he automatically refer to individuals by their proper titles and surnames until he was instructed otherwise by those individuals – and Dani having recovered so well, Walter felt somewhat less uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the temple for periods of time. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, but that couldn’t be helped until he was positive that he’d eradicated David’s plague and rendered this area genuinely safe to exist in. The thought of leaving this particular Engineer metropolis had occurred to him, but he’d failed to find any maps referring to other cities and the intensity of the frequent storms here would make long distance travel dangerous. There was also the single pale skinned monster that remained, and until it had been killed, Walter could never be sure whether or not the humans in his company were being stalked. He was also not entirely sure that other creatures existed who simply had yet to show themselves.

Stevens was still very much physically recovering from his ordeal, and the man was far too emotionally unstable to be trusted to make rational decisions in emergency situations. Because of this, Walter preferred that Dani and Stevens were together in his absence, but he tried to keep his time away relatively short. That morning he made the trek to the wreckage of _the Covenant_ , intending to return with another load of medical supplies and personal effects for both Dani and Stevens. He could only carry so much, but his visits to the crash site were few and far between because of the traveling distance and the sheer size of the ship itself.  _The Covenant_  was a massive vessel, and even with extensive knowledge of its makeup and all that it contained, it was time consuming to navigate. 

The ship itself had crashed beyond the apparent radius of land affected by the plague that David had released, as Walter noted a distinct lack of pods and other similar growth in the area. But as Walter moved through a relatively undamaged corridor between the medical bay and the ship’s cabin, a loud  _thump_  stopped him in his tracks. He paused, accustomed to drawing breath in order to speak and also as an automatic response to being around Dani and watching her breathing for so long. Now he automatically stopped, standing perfectly still and making no noise at all. The sound came again from through the ceiling above him.  _Vents or open corridor?_ He mused, considering the layout of the structure around him and deciding the corridor above was more likely. And then,  _Creature, or David?_  He’d checked and checked again before incarcerating his fellow synthetic, but the idea that David might have somehow escaped was a very concerning one. Also, if it was a creature, Walter would probably be ignored, if anything. If it was David, he may be in danger of facing an attack. 

Either way, there was no sense in being so quiet any longer. If it was David making the noise, it seemed awfully flamboyant and too obvious. A creature would make more sense. And regardless of what had made the noise, they must already be well aware of Walter’s presence and his location. He had not exactly been silent about his arrival or his movements throughout  _the Covenant_ , even if he naturally possessed a light step. “You don’t bother me and I won’t bother you,” he said out loud, and firmly. Then he continued on his way. He never saw anything and there were no signs of life around him, but the occasional noises continued throughout his time inside the ship. Sometimes it sounded as if he was being followed or tracked, even if from another level or adjacent rooms and corridors, and sometimes it the sounds receded until they could no longer be heard, obviously distracted by something else or having lost interest. 

He gathered a pack full of basic medical supplies, taking care to include antibiotics and IV fluids, should the worst occur. Then he meandered to the crew’s quarters, having to alter the route he would have taken in a still-functional  _Covenant_ to reach his destination due to the damage. Most of the doors in the ship had manual options for opening and closing them, so the fact that only base power remained wasn’t a problem. But some parts were damaged and some debris too thick to push through. The ship itself was relatively intact – aside from having broken into two pieces – and had taken the tremendous impact relatively well as far as the structure itself went. Walter always tried to bring something personal and meaningful back for Dani after his trips to the wreckage, and now he supposed he might try to do something similar for Stevens.  _An olive branch of sorts_ , he thought. But that was easier said than done. Dani’s belonging’s, like Walter’s and the rest of the crew’s, were in the crew quarters and relatively easy to access. Stevens’ supplies would be deep in one of the storage levels of the ship, neatly labeled and sealed away with the other thousands of storage containers that had belonged to the deceased colonists. 

This required a very direct route because there were only three access terminals leading into the storage location, so Walter spent a good amount of time picking through the once-pristine halls and rooms of the Covenant to reach first one, and then the next.  Two of them were blocked, and he weighed the risk of becoming locked inside if he entered the only remaining door. It seemed unlikely and it was worth it to him to recover something for Stevens, so he took his chances. The storage units were clearly labeled and easy enough to navigate, and he soon found himself standing in front of a collection of small doors marked  _Stevens_. It wasn’t an uncommon name and first initials led him to the belongings of I. and E. Stevens. 

Walter opened the unit and sifted through the belongings with care, mentally cataloging the sentimental value of the things he touched. He sought something that would truly mean something to Stevens, but there was no guarantee he would find that here. But ah, here it was. A small frame containing a family photo. Stevens and his wife were front and center, with people Walter assumed to be siblings and parents standing around them. It was a wedding photograph. But this was not enough. It would be good for the man to have a photo of his late wife, but something else that didn’t hold as much sadness would do well, too. An old, still-functioning pocket watch was the answer here. He pocketed the items and pulled the pack he'd brought with him back over his shoulder, having been unwilling to leave it at the entrance in case  _someone_  or something decided to take it. Having already stopped in and retrieved something for Dani from the crew’s quarters, his thoughts were already on the trip back to the temple. 

When he turned a figure in the doorway caught his eye, but it was far too dim in the belly of the ship to make out much more than a large, dark smudge against the background. The thing moved away from the door as soon as it was spotted, and Walter heard heavy steps carrying it away down the attached corridor. “Right,” he muttered, and set off for home. He kept his wits about him and paid extra attention to his surroundings on his return trip, glancing over his shoulder often and studying the ship after he had left it. No more sounds had accompanied him as he exited the ship itself, but he had an uncomfortable feeling of being watched and perhaps even followed. Still, he saw nothing.

Walter took great care to be sure that the entrance to the temple was closed behind him and then went to drop off his findings in one of his pristinely organized storage closets. He kept the items he had found for Dani and Stevens on his person, intending to hand hem over as soon as he saw the two humans. He found Dani first though, encountering her as she moved down a hall at an obviously upset pace. He would not have crossed paths with her on his original course but heard the weight of her footfalls and understood that something was wrong, prompting him to investigate. 

“You’re upset,” he said as soon as he saw her, raising his eyebrows to silently ask what had happened. He looked back the way she’d come, understanding that Stevens was more than likely in the main room she had left behind. She continued to walk and he fell into step beside her, unsure about whether she wanted company. “Would you prefer to be alone?” he asked simply, sure that she would reply honestly. 

“Yes. No.” 

Again, his eyebrows rose. He slowed his stride and fell half a step behind her, indicating that he was perfectly willing to give her space if she needed it. 

“Yes, I’m upset. No, I don’t want to be alone,” she explained. Her words were clipped but any shortness was obviously not directed at him. 

He sped up again, now walking evenly beside her again. “Where are we headed at such a quick pace?” he asked, noting that she had not slowed down since the several steps she took as she passed when she first saw him. 

She waited several seconds to answer. “I’m taking a bath.” 

Walter briefly considered whether there were sufficient supplies to accommodate her needs in the lower levels without his running off to get them for her, and then nodded to himself, satisfied. He’d left a neat stack of towels and soaps and cloths all folded near her favorite pool to bathe in. 

She abruptly changed directions and Walter followed without missing a beat. She seemed troubled beyond whatever incident had occurred to make her upset. “I don’t want to be alone, but if you have someplace to be . . .” She let the last word hang in the air, a subtle question. 

“No.” He answered her right away, already having committed in his own mind to accompanying her. The sounds and whatever he’d seen on the  _Covenant_ had left him feeling somewhat perturbed and it was good to be in Dani’s presence. He thought to tell her about his experience when he turned over her recovered belongings, but for now she had other things on her mind and he would hear about those first. He wanted to try to put her mind at ease and if all else failed, perhaps his small gifts would help with that. 

They arrived in bathing room and Walter automatically moved to sit against the wall, leaning back and looking across the room so that Dani had her privacy. He had seen all there was to see of her when he’d been her caretaker, but he understood that there was a significance to letting her undress and enter the water unwatched. His eyes skipped across the room and back to her at a moment’s notice though, drawn by his own name. She’s said it quietly, but there was distress behind the word. He rose and walked to her side immediately, kneeling there, and reaching down to put his hand on her wrist. He knew right away that something was wrong. “Your temperature has risen considerably above what I believe to be normal.” 

“No shit.” the words weren’t biting, but obviously uncomfortable, even hurting. She chuckled dryly. 

Immediately, Walter moved to dip his fingertips into the water, needing only an instant to process the liquid and its properties. He frowned, unable to dispute that if something was wrong, it was with Dani and not her surroundings. “The water temperature does not appear to have changed.” He pulled his hand back and away from the water, refocusing solely on the woman next to him. She was slumped over and curled strangely, clearly very uncomfortable. “Can you sit?” he asked, minding his own newly growing tendencies to reach out for her and keeping his hands to himself. “I’ll just grab you a towel for the walk back.” His frown deepened when she answered.

“I don’t know.” 

That was enough information to prompt him into action. He silently moved to place his hand and stump wrist under her arms and gently lifted her. She was obviously trying to help him with some of her weight, but was only somewhat successful. The expression on her face gave him the impression that she was in pain. He helped her sit against the wall on the very bench he’d been seated on moments before, and then moved to get some towels once he was sure she was propped up and in no danger of collapsing onto the floor. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “My head is killing me.” 

Ever business when it came to these things, Walter was asking questions before he’d even registered what he was doing. “How long have these symptoms been presenting themselves?” If Dani had been experiencing whatever this was for very long, he hoped she would have told him about it. Perhaps she hadn’t felt like this before. Perhaps it had only happened once in passing and she hadn’t thought it important enough to mention. 

Dani shook her head, squinting her eyes and scrunching up her face as soon as she did. She lifted a shaky hand to rub at her temples, clearly experiencing some kind of headache. “A few days maybe? I figured it was just a bug. Or maybe I was dehydrated.”

“Just a bug,” Walter repeated, processing this information and reminding himself how private Dani could be and reassuring himself that she no reason to keep things from him. She probably just thought it wasn’t a big deal. This wasn’t something that meant she didn’t trust him. Of course not.  He stared at her for a few seconds, pausing with a towel in his hands. She looked paler than usual, especially since she’d been spending all of the good weather days on the roof in the sun. 

Dani seemed to read his face like a book. “I’m sorry for not mentioning it sooner. I thought it was nothing. It felt like nothing until today.” He gently dried her arms and legs, shoulders, and face, but so far had simply draped a towel over her torso. Now he wrapped her up in the towel and helped her to her feet once more. Already, he was thinking miles ahead of where they were now. “I’ll get you into bed and get some hot broth and water into you. Your system-”

“No, not hot.”

He paused, leaning forward so that he could see her face, as she was pressed against his side so he could wrap his arm around her. 

“I feel like I’m burning up all of a sudden. Cold or lukewarm is fine. Not hot.” 

Walter nodded and helped her back to the room where they spent all their nights. She usually slept and Walter usually sat and watched the door, or her, or just closed his eyes and listened. Dani had changed her mind about the temperature of her anticipated food by the time they arrived and he was helping her into bed. 

“Would you light a fire?” she asked softly after he’d set her on the mattress. She pulled the covers up to her chin immediately, peeking out at him over the thick fabric. She’d begun visibly shivering, and the sweat that beaded on her forehead earlier was gone now. 

Walter pulled extra blankets from a wardrobe to drape over her first, and then left briefly to bring a torch from the main room to light Dani’s fire. Then he left to get her hot food and broth, finding his usual composure somewhat shaken. His normally measured steps and movements were a tad faster and more erratic than usual. He felt he needed to get back to her as soon as he could, and the longer he was away, the more anxious he was to see her again. When he did get back, he set a bowl of hot broth in her hands. 

She took it gratefully, but asked, “Will you cut my hair for me?” rather unexpectedly. 

Walter studied her for a moment, focusing on her hair for the first time since . . . well, he couldn’t say that he’d ever actually studied her hair before. It was always just another existing facet of who she was, a part of her appearance. He realized it had grown some since the crash, and saw that the wet ends were clinging to Dani’s neck and the sides of her ears. He’d toweled them so they weren’t dripping, but the moisture would still be enough to give Dani a chill if she was already sick. He nodded. “Easier to take care of when it’s short,” he said simply, and made sure she was as comfortable as possible before he left to look in David’s study for the sheers the rogue android had used on his blonde hair. 

Walter ran through possibilities in his mind as he retrieved the sheers, ready to make another trip to  _the Covenant_  if the supplies he’d stockpiled over time and just returned with today proved to be ineffective at combating whatever ailed Dani. He was so preoccupied as he walked that he forgot to announce his presence before entering the room, something that he’d tried to start doing after Dani had noted him watching her in the past. They hadn’t argued about it, of course, but the following conversation after she stated her observation was an uncomfortable one he didn’t like to think about. His reaction had been the uncomfortable one, of course, but still. Dani was so  _open_  and  _curious_  and willing to talk about things with him, and he felt bad because he didn’t feel quite the same way. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _want_ to discuss them with her, it was just that he didn’t know how. He wasn’t actually sure how he felt about much of what had transpired between the two of them, and he knew that some of what he felt was certainly abnormal for his model to be experiencing. But did that make it bad? He didn’t know the answer to that, either. 

He walked in with his head down, staring down at the sheers in thought, and blinked in surprise when he looked up. Dani was still naked, having not gotten dressed after her bath, but she’d shoved all of the blankets off of her and her now-empty bowl aside, obviously hot now rather than cold. She lay on her back, sprawled out so none of her appendages touched each other. He raised his eyebrows, unsure of what to say besides the choked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-” that spilled out of his mouth before she cut him off, rolling her eyes. 

“It’s my fault. I should have given you a warning.” She curled in on herself slightly, but Walter thought it was less to do with modesty or fear of revealing herself to him and more to do with the onset of more chills. “Can I have a tank top and shorts?”

He set the sheers aside and moved to get the things she’d asked for right away. “Of course.” When he did look at her again, he was sure to keep his eyes on her face. It was so easy to forget the way she might take it if he let his eyes run over her. When he did, it was always automatic and assessing. He was making sure there were no new wounds or visible problems with her health, and then he would return his eyes to her face. But he’d noticed that every time he did this, her cheeks and the tips of her ears would turn bright red, and she seemed to have trouble looking him in the eye for some time after those moments. So he tried to remind himself to look into her eyes now, lest he accidentally make the situation awkward or at least somewhat uncomfortable. 

She rolled her eyes again, but Walter didn’t even have time to ponder what it meant this time. “I think I have a fever,” she stated glumly, clearly perturbed by her own assessment. 

Walter didn’t disagree. “That would be my first guess.” He crossed the few steps between them to hand her the clothing she’d asked for. He noticed her hands shook as she reached up to accept them. Her voice was very quiet and there was a too-familiar light of panic in her eyes. “Do you think I’m . . . infected?” She shuddered after asking, looking away and obviously remembering things Walter wished she didn’t have to. 

“That seems unlikely,” he offered right away, understanding how frightening the idea must be for her. Hell, it was frightening for him and he wasn’t even the one who might have a parasite inside of him. He shoved the thought away, disgusted with himself. How selfish. He didn’t want her to be in pain or dead, obviously, but the thought of losing her entirely . . . that hurt. It was a selfish fear, indeed. 

“But not impossible,” Dani said bluntly, stating what he wouldn’t. “Shit.” 

The last word tore Walter back out of his thoughts and he felt bad for not being able to put her at ease. He helped her into her clothes as they spoke and now he smoothed a space on the edge of the bed and seated himself next to her, at her hip. He did it subconsciously, perhaps, but the moment he sat down her hip touched his and he became aware of how close she was. Again, how selfish. Dani was in perpetual danger on this planet and at this very moment she could be near death, and Walter was caught up noticing their proximity to each other and enjoying the warm feeling of her pressed against his skin. He studied her face for a few seconds, back on track with the current conversation and no longer so caught up in his own angsty inner conflict. After a time he said, “You look pale, but not like any of the crew who were infected when it got bad. I don’t know their exact symptoms because I never discussed with them, but it seemed to progress quickly. If you are infected, I suspect we’ll know sooner than later.” 

Dani barked a humorless laugh. “Thanks, Walter.” She shook her head slightly, gently because she didn’t want to cause more throbbing, he was sure. “Always keeping it real.” 

Walter didn’t know what else to do, so he impulsively shrugged. “I will not leave your side,” he said gravely. 

He wasn’t sure, but she was smiling at him suddenly, small but genuine. And then just as quickly as it came, that bright expression vanished. “You have to take me out of the temple. It’s not safe for Irwin if-”

“No.” Walter wouldn’t hear of it. There was no place as safe as this. Infected or not, it’s not safe for you beyond these walls.” He would hide her away somewhere safe where nothing could get in or out. He would do the same for Irwin. Whatever it took. But he would not move Dani from the safest place they had. If she wasn’t infected and was simply sick, that risk was for nothing. He was inclined to keep Stevens safe, of course, but he felt that he could do that adequately without exiling Dani from the temple, even temporarily. 

Dani opened her mouth and made a face, clearly ready to argue with him. 

“If you aren’t infected, the dangers are even higher. I won’t risk that.” This was not a matter he wanted to discuss. He’d already made up his mind. 

Dani seemed to sense this and deflated some, sinking back against her pillow and frowning at the air past Walter’s head. “Downstairs, then. Irwin doesn’t live down there anymore and there’s a heavy door to stop anything from getting in or out without help. Please, Walter. If I am incubating one of those fuckers we can’t let it get to Stevens.” Her eyes had every ounce of  _please, for me_  watering in them and gleaming up at him, and Walter stared at them for a moment before sighing. 

He thought of the stone room he’d first kept Dani in after the crash, when he couldn’t risk the rest of the temple because it hadn’t yet been secured. That room was currently dark and cold and lacking in a fireplace, and it was completely bare. Everything had been moved out of it when Dani first migrated to what had been David’s room, and as the room was so dark and uncomfortable, nothing else had taken up the space. “I’ll take all of the things that you’ll need to be comfortable and-”

She interrupted. “No. You can’t leave my side. Remember?” She was still looking him in the eye and her gaze was fierce and personal. “Not while I’m in a place without a door. Something could get in. Something could get out. If there is one in me, we don’t know when it might decide to  _come out_. I’ll go down there with you right away. You can leave me alone once I’m behind that door.”  

He wrestled with himself momentarily, loath to move her into such a cold, empty room with no amenities, but he understood by the look on her face that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. She’d given ground when he refused to move her out of the temple. It was his turn. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” he said quietly. 

There was quiet victory on her face, but only momentarily. Then she seemed to remember the circumstances that had led to this disagreement in the first place and her confidence crumpled. 

Walter insisted on pinning an armload of blankets under his bad arm and helping Dani with his good one as they walked down to the room. He got Dani as comfortable as possible and left momentarily to bring her a portable heating unit that he’d brought from _the Covenant_  in the past weeks, and set that up next to the bed before leaving for a more lengthy run for other necessities she would want in her temporary room. Walter hoped it was temporary because she would get better and not because she wouldn’t be around at all. 

On his way through the main level he found himself pursued by Stevens. “What’s going on?” the man asked, obviously concerned. “I saw you taking things downstairs.” 

Walter paused to consider how he should approach explaining the situation. “Daniels is sick,” he said promptly, knowing that was probably the best place to start. 

Stevens’ eyes widened infinitesimally and he took half a step back. “Sick,” he repeated, glancing past Walter as if Dani might appear at any moment and infect them all with a terrible plague. “What kind of sick?” His eyes flicked in the direction of David’s study and then back to Walter’s face, but what was on his mind was obvious enough. 

“That is unclear,” Walter said honestly. “She is experiencing a severe fever and frequent lightheadedness.” 

“So she’s moving . . . down there.” 

Walter nodded, trying to be patient with the man even though he felt he needed to tend to Dani’s needs before he sat about and had any leisurely discussions with Stevens. “Daniels thought it would be best if she relocated to a more secure room,” he said slowly, considering all of the possible incoming reactions to his words. 

Stevens no longer seemed to have the capacity to act any more surprised and concerned than he already was. “Because there’s one of those things in her,” he said. It sounded firm, too firm, not a question, maybe an accusation, definitely a statement. 

“We don’t know that,” Walter countered immediately, upset that such a conclusion had been reached so quickly and so definitively. “This is an alien planet. Any number of viruses or infections could present themselves that we have no understanding of.” 

Stevens narrowed his eyes. “So you’re going to endanger my life just to keep her comfortable?” 

Walter felt himself bristle, and his expression darken. “Dani’s life would be in danger if she were to move out of this complex,” he asserted, now audibly upset. Normally he referred to her as Daniels in front of David and Stevens, but now he slipped up. “Her life would be in danger there. She is moving to the lower levels to keep  _you_  safe despite the discomfort she’ll experience being down there instead of in her room.” He paused for a millisecond. Had he just almost called it  _our room_? How unusual, for him to claim anything without thinking about it. Never mind for now. “This way you’ll  _both_  be safe.” He would have said more, but Stevens exploded. 

“ _Dani_!” he shouted, clearly more disturbed by that one word than the rest put together. He’d have heard Walter call her by the nickname, of course, and Dani herself had told Stevens he could call her that if he wished, but he’d always staunchly stuck to  _Daniels_. For some reason now though, the use of the name in conversation seemed to set him off royally. “What the hell is it with you people?” 

Walter raised an eyebrow, leaning away from the man slightly but not stepping back and giving ground. He and Stevens had experienced their disagreements and tense moments, but this was the first time he’d ever even remotely considered shouting back. “I don’t understand what you’re upset about now,” Walter said genuinely, trying to keep his voice even and relatively medium in volume. 

“You!” Stevens said, not shouting now but clearly exasperated. “The two of you! She goes on and on about you like you’re some _one_  and not some _thing_ , and you follow her around like a lost puppy. She trusts you more than she trusts actual  _humans_  and now, when my life is on the line, all you can think about is her safety. Your weird devotion is sickening. Maybe she’s got a mental illness after everything she’s been through. Maybe you’ve got a screw loose or a faulty system. I don’t know.” Stevens’ voice was steadily rising in volume and pitch as he went on. “You don’t sleep, but I know you stay in her room with her! What the hell is that? Are you guarding her like a dog? Studying her like that sick fuck who was here doing his experiments before we came along?” he shook his head, momentarily devolving from comprehendible words to flustered spluttering. “Whatever weird connection you two think you’re playing at, it won’t work! She’s a  _person_ , living and breathing, and you!” He glared at Walter, taking a step forward. “You’re just a machine! It’s sick! Something is very wrong with this whole situation!” 

Walter didn’t realize until too late, but the moment Stevens took that step forward, the synthetic found himself moving his feet to a wider stance and bracing himself for an attack of some kind. “I need to get the rest of her things down to her,” he said evenly, though his usually-smooth voice was somewhat higher than usual. “There will be time to sit down and discuss all of this after I’m sure she’s comfortable.” 

“No!” Stevens said loudly, too firmly. “We’re going to talk about this now! You might be  _inferior_ but you’re still capable of understanding conversation and coming to conclusions. It’s. Not. Safe. To keep her here! Something could have come out of her already. It could be coming out of her right now! It could be eating her and just waiting for you to let it out so it can come for me!” He was near hysterics at the end. 

Walter on the other hand, had had enough. The mere mention of something c _oming out of_ and  _eating_ Dani threw Walter himself into near hysterics, though. He needed to check on her. He needed to be there in case something happened. He had to make sure. “I don’t have time for this!” he heard himself say, not quite shouting but with a raised, clearly angry voice. 

Stevens took another step forward and raised his hand as if to pound it on Walter’s chest, but he didn't. Not yet. “I won‘t go near her,” he fumed. “And so help me god if  _she_ comes near  _me_. . .” he trailed off, but there was something in his eyes that Walter didn’t like at all. The man seemed to sense this, lowering his voice. “I don’t care what she’s infected with, Walter,” he said quietly, suddenly sounding so much calmer. Walter found this remarkably disturbing. “I’ll kill her if she comes near me and she’s not healthy. I will. I’m not dying on this damn rock.” 

Walter chose not to inform Stevens that he was mortal and would, in fact, die on this rock unless he somehow flew out into space. Then he would die there instead. But he didn’t have time to think on it, because Stevens took a final step to close the gap between them and made a loud noise, something between a shriek and a battle cry. He’d never lowered his fist and now he swung, but Walter caught the man’s wrist in the middle of his downward strike. Stevens’ face went from red to white and all of the bluster seemed to go out of him when Walter stopped him so easily, and then furthermore when he tried to move his arm and found that he couldn’t. His eyes widened as they had earlier and he looked up at Walter, suddenly looking like he took the synthetic a little more seriously. 

“I would not do that,” Walter said, holding Stevens’ wrist firmly and staring into the man’s face. He was careful not to squeeze or crush the relatively fragile human tissue and bone beneath his fingers, but for the briefest moment he may have considered it. He leaned in, still staring at Stevens but keeping watch out of the corner of his eye on the man’s one free hand. His words came more slowly and firmly this time. “I . . . would not . . . do that.” He wanted to make sure this message, this one message if nothing else, got through the man’s thick skull. For the first time since he’d first gained consciousness, Walter felt an overwhelming sensation spread throughout him. It wasn’t something he could immediately identify but he understood that it aligned closely with what humans experienced when they felt rage. Walter leaned back, but he didn’t release Stevens’ wrist just yet. “If there is a creature in this place, I will kill it,” he said firmly, “long before it gets to you. It may be contrary to what I would  _like_  to do, but my primary programming is still intact. Be thankful for that.” 

“Primary programming,” Stevens murmured, stumbling back when Walter released him suddenly. He rubbed his wrist, glaring at Walter even as he retreated further across the room. 

Walter tilted his head, done with the theatrics of maintaining as polite and professional a demeanor around this man as he had before. “Primary synthetic programming dictates that synthetics will  _not_  take human life,” he said simply, and walked out of the room.  _Tempting though_ , he said to himself, within the confines of his own mind. He thought it best to leave Stevens standing there alone to fully consider the consequences of any rash impulses he may find himself desiring to act on.


End file.
